


Some Families Are Much Better Than Others

by themasterandmargaritaville



Series: Scorbus Universe [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dementors, F/M, Horcruxes, M/M, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Scorpius Malfoy, Parseltongue, Possession, Prophecies, Wandless Magic, time turners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 177,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28900239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themasterandmargaritaville/pseuds/themasterandmargaritaville
Summary: Draco struggles to redeem the Malfoy name after the Death Eater Trials. Scorpius deals with a much heavier burden than the Malfoy name.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Daphne Greengrass/Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Millicent Bulstrode/Marcus Flint, Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter, Scorpius Malfoy/Rose Weasley, Teddy Lupin/James Sirius Potter
Series: Scorbus Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2203182
Kudos: 108





	1. The Death Eater Trials (May 1998)

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my fic. It's done now.
> 
> If you are here out of interest in Scorpius and Albus, who are the main characters, then be aware that Scorpius is not introduced until chapter five and doesn't assume a narrator role until chapter six. I think it will still make sense if you decide to skip ahead to that point.

_May 7th, 1998_

_Draco Malfoy._

_Your wand (10”, hawthorn wood, unicorn hair core) has been turned into the Ministry of Magic. It will be held in Ministry possession pending the outcome of your trial on 21st May, 1998._

_Regards,_

_Karl Chubbuck_

_Senior Undersecretary to the Wizengamot_

_May 9th, 1998_

_Potter,_

_It has come to my attention that my wand has been turned into the Ministry. I am humbled. This wand is an Important Historical Artifact as it was, after all, the wand used to kill (“disarm”) Lord Voldemort. I do not deserve to wield the like. Please, return the Elder Wand, and we’ll call it even._

_DM_

_May 10th, 1998_

_Very funny. I assume you are trying to thank me. You are, as expected, exceptionally bad at it. Speaking of exceptional - I have never met a meaner owl in my life. Did you train this thing for the fighting pits? I receive hundreds of owls a day, and this is the first one to start an actual brawl to get its letter read._

_You’re welcome for the wand._

_Harry Potter_

_May 10th, 1998_

_Potter,_

_I’ll thank you when the wand is back in my possession. As my future is yet uncertain, I have nothing to thank you for. You may call Ridcully mean, but how many of those other owls did you actually read? I, for one, admire his tenacity and, as you may have already realized given the scratches that are surely covering your hands and arms, will continue to use him for all future correspondences. He likes to feel useful and, even moreso, loves to win a fight. Without purpose, he turns on me._

_DM_

_May 11th, 1998_

_Malfoy, at least come up with an excuse to write next time you want to sic your bird of war on me. He’s clearly exhausted, and his temperament becomes somehow even more foul when he’s tired. I know what you’re trying to ask me, so get on with it and see if I agree. If it helps, your mother has already asked._

_May 13th, 1998_

_Potter,_

_I am aware that my mother has written. I am also aware of your response, so I can’t say I see the point in humiliating myself any further before I’m shipped off to Azkaban when I already know the answer. Thank you, though, for offering to testify for her. Truly. It means everything._

_DM_

_May 13th, 1998_

_If you have seen my response, then you’ll know that I refused to testify for your father. I’m sure you can understand why. The most I can say for Lucius Malfoy is that his desire to present me to Voldemort alive allowed me to escape multiple situations in which he and his friends could (and would) have killed me. If you’d like me to share this at his trial, then I’m perfectly willing to send a Patronus._

_If you’d like me to testify for you, then ask me. If you’d like me to say yes, then send a different bloody bird. I take back what I said about the fighting pits. It is clearly not trained enough to fight on command. It is, apparently, just a complete monster by nature._

_Harry_

_May 15th, 1998_

_Potter,_

_Please speak at my trial. I will die in Azkaban._

_DM_

*

The Malfoys were all tried on the same day. The Death Eater Trials had begun in the preceding week, and Draco had tracked the sentences of his fellow Death Eaters through the newspapers while he and his mother were held under house arrest. The Wizengamot was no longer distinguishing between marked and unmarked supporters of Voldemort in their trials, possibly a cursory nod of respect to Severus Snape and moment of honor for Fenrir Greyback, although most marked Death Eaters, including Draco’s father, were kept in Azkaban rather than simply wandless and confined to their homes while they awaited trial. The idea that the Wizarding World was suddenly above stigmatizing Death Eaters was, to Draco, laughable. They were the villains, and even Draco couldn't see it any differently.

Draco was, as far as he could ascertain, the only marked Death Eater to avoid Azkaban without fleeing the country. He supposed that boded well, but it did not bode well when the Daily Prophet announced that both Gregory Goyle (unmarked) and Theodore Nott (marked) had received two years in Azkaban for their use of the Cruciatus Curse on other Hogwarts students. Even factoring in any extenuating circumstances, Draco knew that he had done worse than that. He was certain that his family’s trial date was scheduled so close to last in order as a form of personalized torture. Draco couldn't stand watching Death Eaters getting shipped off to Azkaban when he knew that his crimes were objectively more heinous.

Potter had never responded to Draco with confirmation that he would be present at the trial although Draco’s mother remained quietly confident that he would show up. She probably needed to believe that he would be there because none of them had any hope without him. Voldemort was well-known to have resided in Malfoy Manor for the past year. Even if there were no official witnesses to their crimes, every convicted Death Eater would be clamoring to sell the Malfoys out.

His father still maintained that they should claim the Imperius and deny all charges, but after he was led out of the small holding room to his trial, Draco admitted to himself that he would certainly end up telling the truth. There was no more to be gained by lying or obfuscating the truth for any of them. The Malfoys had fallen. The least Draco could claim was that he had been honest. On a more selfish note (the sort of qualifier that was necessary with all of Draco's more respectable decisions), he believed it was not long before the Ministry realized that a person could not receive the Dark Mark itself without active, uncursed consent. 

His father's trial seemed to last a very long time. Neither Draco nor his mother dared or desired to speak a word while they waited in front of the sentry Aurors. She stared expressionlessly at the wall in front of her, and he focused on breathing in and out very slowly until she was called in. Even though Draco estimated that it only lasted about half as long as his father’s, the anxiety-induced time dilation was utter agony. His father was doomed. He had entered the courtroom like a proud man aware of his impending damnation. She had entered the room with quiet hope. His heart hurt all the more for it.

And then Draco was called in.

He was escorted by an Auror and led to a chair in the center of the courtroom, surrounded on all sides by press, Ministry officials, and possibly some people just looking for vindictive entertainment. The moment he sat down in the chair, chains sprang to life and bound his arms and legs, and Draco inhaled sharply in surprise. How was anyone supposed to look innocent when they were literally chained to a chair? He experienced the sort of intense hopelessness that made him look around for the presence of the dementors. There were none.

He warned himself not to struggle against his bonds and remain perfectly still until addressed. He attempted to gauge the mood of the audience, but the lights blasting him were so blinding that it felt like being surrounded by a hundred shadows. Completely disoriented, he squinted and faced forward to peer at the Lead Shadow.

“Draco Malfoy,” boomed the recognizable voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt. Draco could vividly remember Shacklebolt approaching him and his mother in the Great Hall after the Battle of Hogwarts, telling them that they were not under arrest but to return to Malfoy Manor immediately out of the respect for the many people present who had lost family during the War. Then he had put chains on his father. Draco's stomach flipped. “You are being tried for the use of all three Unforgivable Curses in addition to helping Death Eaters break into Hogwarts and two counts of attempted murder on classmates. You are an accessory to the murder of Albus Dumbledore and are responsible for the death of two Muggles and one House-elf. How do you plead?”

Draco swallowed thickly. It sounded completely damning. “Guilty on all counts.”

The courtroom broke into frantic whispers for a moment before Kingsley silenced them. “Would you like to offer any defense at this time?”

“I would like to tell the truth,” Draco said quietly, and the whispers returned with renewed vigor. This time, Kingsley humored a few seconds of discussion while Draco searched the shadowy audience in a vain attempt at looking for Potter. He never expected him to be present for Draco’s trial but hoped desperately that he’d been there for his mother’s. If he had been, then why wouldn't he linger the extra hour for Draco's?

“What is the truth?” Kingsley asked finally, silencing the onlookers once more.

Draco shut his eyes for a minute while he collected his thoughts. He had prepared. His preparation flew out the window as he began to speak: “My father was involved in a Ministry break in, but he was caught and sent to Azkaban and, more importantly, failed to get the thing he was after - the prophecy, I learned later. The Da - Voldemort was really angry. Really angry. He wanted to punish my father, although at the time I told myself that he was choosing me to replace him. He gave me the Dark Mark and ordered me to kill Dumbledore, assuming I’d fail. I spent all year trying to - to kill him. I tried to send him a cursed necklace, but Katie Bell touched it instead. I tried to send him poisoned mead, but Ron Weasley drank it instead. Then I tried to repair a Vanishing Cabinet and connect it to one in Borgin and Burkes, so that I could let Death Eaters into Hogwarts to help me. It worked, and when I found Dumbledore on the Astronomy Tower, he was already really weak. I disarmed him, and then the Death Eaters arrived, and Severus Snape killed him.”

“Why didn’t you kill him?”

Draco frowned at the floor in front of him. “Severus did it first.”

“But why didn’t you?” Kingsley pressed. “You had a chance. You could have easily killed him with the necklace or the mead. You were prepared to kill him.”

Draco’s lip curled at the idea that he could have ever easily killed Albus Dumbledore. “It’s a lot - it’s harder when you have to look them in the eye. I hesitated, and then Severus did it instead of me before I could do it.”

“But then you did kill someone. Would you like to tell us about the Muggles?”

“Yeah,” Draco said softly. “I - after that night, I thought things would get better for my family because I had - Death Eaters had _never_ managed to infiltrate Hogwarts before. I had disarmed him. I thought things were going to get better, but they didn’t. Everyone thought we were pathetic, me and my dad. My mother and I were only really protected by our relationship to her sister Bellatrix Lestrange. Bellatrix had taught me how to do Occlumency the summer before to prepare me to go back to Hogwarts. She started to teach me how to do the Unforgivables. She thought that with some practice, I wouldn’t hesitate next time.

“We started with the Imperius. That was easy; I’d already done that one before on Madam Rosmerta. We practiced casting it and throwing it off. Throwing it off wasn’t as easy. Realistically, I - I wasn't exactly sure why she taught it to me. The Unforgivables themselves, that was useful against the enemy. Resisting the Unforgivables, that protected me more from other Death Eaters than from - than from non-Death Eaters. Occlumency, it was meant to protect me from Dumbledore, but in some ways... in some ways, Bellatrix had become the only person who made me feel safe. I wouldn't have risked that relationship for anything.

"So we moved onto the Cruciatus, which she told me would be useful when I got back to Hogwarts. We started on animals, and I didn’t do as well as with the Imperius. I didn’t like the way they screamed, you know? Well, you probably don’t, actually, but it’s terrible when animals scream because they don’t really have any idea what’s happening and can’t understand why they’re in so much pain. I was never able to keep it up for more than a few seconds. The Killing Curse was easier; it felt like I was putting them out of their misery. Then she upgraded me to this House-elf Bitsy we’d had since I was a kid. I couldn’t maintain the Cruciatus, and when I tried to kill her - I said the words, but it didn’t work. I tried so many times, and Bellatrix was clearly getting frustrated, and then I just made it happen. I felt this just incredible sense of relief. I was so worried I wouldn’t be able to do it."

“Why were you so afraid?” Kingsley asked. “What did you think was going to happen to you?”

“I didn’t want them to think I was soft,” Draco told him without hesitation. The truth kept pouring out of him like he’d taken Veritaserum although he knew that they couldn’t administer any potions without the consent of the accused. He considered this for a moment then asked, “Would it help if I were tried under Veritaserum?”

“I don’t believe that’s necessary,” Kingsley said. It made Draco feel strangely comforted. “Just answer the questions, please. Why were you afraid, and what were you afraid of?”

“I think that everyone thought that I had failed to kill Dumbledore because I didn’t want to,” Draco mumbled.

“Did you want to?”

“Not particularly. I also - Bellatrix had taught me Occlumency, which was useful, but Voldemort could have just ordered me to drop my Occlumency walls or administered Veritaserum or tortured me or anything, so it really wasn’t useful against him, and I had withheld some information during questioning. I was afraid that he was going to let Fenrir Greyback bite me. He’d already done it to the children of some other people who’d failed him, so it didn’t seem unlikely. Once I really considered it, it was too late to admit that I’d omitted some information because then they’d ask me why I had concealed it in the first place, you know? I had to double down on it and act like I didn’t know.”

“What information did you conceal?” Kingsley asked, sounding somewhat intrigued for the first time since the trial had begun.

“Well, it wasn’t really my job to tell them anything. It was Severus’s. I think they just wanted me to confirm the information he’d given them. They were planning to attack Po - Harry Potter before he got moved to wherever it was that he got moved to. I think they wanted to cover all the bases, you know? Sorry. I don’t know why I can’t stop saying that.”

“I know,” Kingsley affirmed kindly, and Draco almost smiled. “That didn’t answer my question.”

“They asked me for any information on Harry Potter that I could give them - friends, girlfriends, talents, weaknesses, fears, identifying characteristics, all of it. They asked me about his wand, which I didn’t get at the time, but now I do.”

“What did you tell them?”

“I didn’t know shit about his wand. That’s not really the kind of information wizards have about other wizards.”

“I know,” Kingsley said. Draco actually smiled, but it faded as quickly as it came. “What else did you tell them?”

“Well, I told them he had a scar on his forehead.” A few people actually laughed. Draco could barely believe it. “I told them he was afraid of dementors but learned a Patronus very young and that it took the shape of a stag. I told them he was a seeker and good at defense. Rubbish at Potions. I tried to stick to things I was sure they already knew - friends with the people who’d participated in the Ministry break in, white owl, used the disarming spell for bloody everything.”

“Are you aware that Harry’s identity was confirmed that night by his use of the disarming spell?”

“Maybe he shouldn’t have used it so much then,” Draco said without really considering the glibness of his words. The whispering resumed, and Kingsley silenced them without a second thought. “I didn’t - really, no one else used a single disarming spell the whole night? That seems unlikely.”

“The owl also died.”

“That’s - that’s too bad. They already knew about it though. It’s not hard to figure out what owl someone has.”

“So what didn’t you tell them?”

Draco felt his heartbeat speed up in some irrational terror that the Dark Lord was still around to punish him for his omissions. “I didn’t tell them about the invisibility cloak,” he said softly. “Not until months later, at least. And I told them that his last girlfriend had been Cho Chang.”

“And that wasn’t the truth?”

“It wasn’t a lie exactly, but I was pretty sure that he’d started dating Ginny Weasley at the end of sixth year.”

“And why didn’t you share that?”

Draco flexed his hands uncomfortably. “I thought that if they captured Ginny Weasley that Potter would die trying to save her, and that would have been - really frustrating. I didn’t want him to get distracted by that.”

“I understand. So at what point exactly would you say that your allegiance switched?”

“My allegiance hadn’t switched,” Draco said hurriedly. He would probably look more sympathetic if he said he’d been rooting for Potter the whole time, but that wasn’t really the case. And honesty aside, the extent to which he hadn't wanted Harry Potter to die was deeply embarrassing. Even now, he was humiliated just by the notion that someone would realize how much he'd grown to worship The Boy Who Lived. “It was more ambivalent. I guess I hoped that maybe if my family did something really valuable that we would be accepted again. I think that during the first war, my dad was actually pretty powerful, but that wasn’t the case this time. But if the Death Eaters lost, then we’d get sent to Azkaban, so neither option was great. We were going to lose no matter who won, and that’s been clear for about a year.”

“But you had the chance to provide valuable information.”

Draco shook his head. “It wouldn’t have been enough.”

“Alright,” Kingsley said brusquely. “Let’s return to the Muggles.”

“Sure. Okay. Sure. So Bellatrix was trying to teach me all the Unforgivables, and I’d done them all successfully except the Cruciatus. Then one day she invented this game. Well, I think she’d already invented the game, but she showed it to me. It was called the ‘three scream game’.” Draco inhaled slowly, very aware that he was about to lose all the sympathy that he’d gained in the past few minutes. “It was a mother and a daughter. You - what you do is - you cast the Cruciatus on the little girl, then the mum, then you kill the girl, and you see which of the times the mother screams the loudest. I didn’t - Bellatrix was the one to kill the mum though. The girl was the only human I’ve killed.” The room stayed completely silent, and Draco informed them, completely unnecessarily, “It was the third one. Third scream. Then once I’d proven I could do it, Voldemort had me cast it on the Death Eaters who disappointed him.”

The silence stretched on for ages. Draco had lost every ounce of sympathy in the room, then Kingsley asked, in an icy voice that told Draco all he needed to know, “You were able to cast the Cruciatus on Muggles but not animals?”

“They were already screaming before I’d even started,” Draco blurted out. “And they were as good as dead the moment they entered Malfoy Manor. I was just the one to cast the spell. It’s not that I think animals are better than - okay, that’s not what I - the thing about casting the Cruciatus on animals is that they don’t understand what’s happening. They’re so scared and confused. I wasn’t being sentimental.”

“The little girl was not scared and confused?”

“She was,” Draco moaned. “She was so - but someone else would have done it if I hadn’t. The animals and the House-elf would have been fine if I had managed to kill Dumbledore successfully. They were tortured specifically for my lessons. The girl - the Death Eaters did things like that all the time! There are ghosts in the Manor now.”

Another long silence, and Draco was sure he would vomit all over himself, and then Kingsley continued, “I’ve heard enough. Let’s move onto Hogwarts. You, as well as many of your classmates, participated in a disciplinary group in which you cast the Cruciatus on classmates. Several students have come forward to say that you used the Imperius on them as well.”

“I only ever used the Imperius on them if it was for their own good,” Draco said in a shrill voice. “And we all used the Cruciatus! We didn’t have a choice.”

“I believe the actions of Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan, and Ginny Weasley, among others, would argue that you did have the choice.”

“I’m not a Longbottom or a Weasley! If I refused to comply with the Death Eaters, my family would be held accountable.”

“And you don’t believe the Longbottoms or Weasleys were held accountable by the Death Eaters?” His voice now lacked zero warmth, which made it even more conspicuous that Draco had, at one point, been convincing him of some sort of innocence.

Draco’s hands clenched into fists. “It wasn’t the - they were already targets! Voldemort was living in our home! It’s not that easy to betray him as a Death Eater. There’s a reason no one did. We were not the only family unhappy with his reign.”

“There were Death Eaters who defected.”

“And where are they now?” Draco sneered. “I was not going to get my family killed over an unwillingness to cast the Cruciatus on another student. There had already been a rather sizable sunk cost.”

Another silence to let Draco know that everything he was saying was wrong and would get him sent to Azkaban for life. “How do you use the Imperius on someone for their own good?”

Draco froze. “Could I have a list of the students who came forward?”

“Absolutely not.”

He wasn’t sure why he’d asked. “Usually, I would use it on students who refused to do what they were told and were about to incur a much greater punishment. Not on the ones who didn’t care about that like Neville and his company, but on the younger students who were just afraid to do it. I’d use the Imperius on them and tell them to do whatever they were being told. That was it basically.”

“So you decided that it was for their own good.”

“I did,” Draco said quietly.

“And did you use it on anyone else? You said that was _basically_ it?”

Draco shut his eyes and admitted, “I used it on Ginny Weasley once.”

More whispers, except this time someone in the audience shushed their neighbors before Kingsley had to silence them. Draco craned his neck trying to see the shadowy shusher.

“Under what circumstance did you use it on Ginny Weasley?” Draco thought he could detect a full-on sneer as Kingsley added, “For her own good.”

“It was right when Theo had gotten back to Hogwarts. Theodore Nott. He got back a few weeks after the start of term. He was the only other student to get the mark. The usual group of Gryffindors were being punished, and he got in an argument with Tracey Davis about whether or not Ginny was dating Pot - Harry Potter. He thought we’d been willfully negligent by failing to turn her over to the Da - Voldemort. He claimed that they’d been dating and that I certainly would have known about it if they had been. He was going to use Legilimency on Ginny, and I was pretty sure that she didn’t know Occlumency because none of them bothered to learn it even though it’s an incredibly important skill, so I kind of - well, that is - I used the Imperius on her then blanked her mind so that he’d think that she knew Occlumency.” Draco refrained from emphasizing that he had done this at great personal risk because he had also mostly done it to protect his own lie. He'd had absolutely no idea that it was going to work. Theo could have heard Draco's voice in Ginny's head and ruined everything. 

“Because you had already gone on record saying that they never dated,” Kingsley said.

“Exactly.”

“And no one else knew about the relationship?”

“I think they knew, but a surprisingly small number of students actually enjoyed the violence. Most people just wanted it to end, and the ones that did enjoy it were too thick to be that observant. Theo was dangerous because he was smart and loved being a Death Eater. I think that - some of my classmates became a lot more friendly after I did that. I think that they were trying to show their support without saying what their beliefs were.”

“Would you like to name any names?”

“I - okay, sure. From what I could tell, Blaise Zabini, Millicent Bulstrode, and Daphne Greengrass all preferred Harry Potter’s side.”

“But not enough to fight for him.”

“No, definitely not. Pansy Parkinson was - I think her allegiance was to me. She wasn’t going to say anything that would make me look like a liar.”

Kingsley considered this information carefully then said, “That covers all of your charges then. Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

Draco wanted to tell them all about Potter’s imprisonment at Malfoy Manor, but it felt so humiliatingly self-indulgent to bring up without being prompted that he couldn’t force himself to say anything. He shook his head meekly. “That’s it.”

“Does anyone have anything to say?” Kingsley boomed. The lights on Draco dimmed somewhat so that he could finally see the audience. Most people were regarding him with mistrust and confusion, but that was a far cry from the hatred that he had feared. 

“How can we be sure he isn’t lying?” A particularly angry-looking wizard demanded.

“He offered to take Veritaserum,” objected a familiar voice, and Draco twisted around to find Ginny Weasley in the audience. Draco’s chest tightened with a foolish hope as he saw her sitting with Potter, Luna, Ron, and Hermione. Ginny looked annoyed, more at the wizard than at Draco. Luna gave him a small smile as their eyes met and waved like they were friends running into each other in Diagon Alley. Ron had his arm around Hermione’s shoulders and was whispering with her intently, both sporting unhappy looks on their faces. Potter was flexing his right hand and regarding Draco with a rather perplexed expression. 

“Do you have anything to add, Ginny?” Kingsley asked her, and Draco got a taste of what real warmth sounded like in his voice. He tore his gaze away from Potter to focus on Ginny.

“As far as what I can confirm, I do confirm. He kept my relationship to Harry a secret from Theodore Nott and insinuated that I should get Occlumency lessons from McGonagall when I confronted him about it. He also used the Cruciatus on and in front of me numerous times.” She shrugged and made a casual gesture like she was balancing scales. “He’s not wrong when he says that everyone in his group was doing it - even those sympathizers he named. If he resisted, someone else would have done it instead of him.”

“I was in his cellar for over a month, and he never used it on me,” Luna added. “He even offered to bring me things, but I told him not to because it was clear no one there liked him very much. It was very unpleasant for me to be there, but I think it was unpleasant for him too. He seemed very unhappy. He seems happier now even though he’s chained to a chair. I don’t think he liked Voldemort at all.”

Ginny nudged Potter with her shoulder, and he gave her a miserable look before nodding and straightening his spine. “I have some things to say.”

Draco, for whatever reason, wanted to roll his eyes. It just happened naturally in Potter’s presence. He took a moment to appreciate that Potter didn’t actually look like he was doing very well. He was almost as skinny as he’d been at the Battle of Hogwarts and still had dark bags under his eyes. It was so unusual for the Prophet to go out of their way to make him look good in his photos, but they must have in order to hide his exhaustion.

“Go on,” Kingsley prompted.

“Can I ask some questions first?”

He nodded.

Potter focused on Draco for the first time since the lighting changed. “You said you hadn’t told them about the cloak _yet._ When did you tell them about the cloak?”

Draco had to struggle to meet his eyes even though he was almost certain that Potter’s presence was a good sign. If Potter wanted him to be convicted, he needn’t have shown up. “After Gringotts.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“He was - Voldemort killed everyone in the room when he found out that you’d broken in. He cleaned house. My dad and Bellatrix barely escaped with their lives. After he’d calmed down a little bit, he focused on them. He told my dad that he could either die or bring me downstairs, and he chose - you’ve already gotten the spoilers. I just wanted it to end and blurted it out. I said anything I could think of, really. It worked. He said to tell all of his followers, especially the Carrows and the ones patrolling in Hogsmeade, and then he left without an explanation. He seemed too distracted to consider that I had intentionally withheld it. I assumed that he would get around to punishing us after the battle but then fortunately he died first.” Draco gave a nod in recognition of Potter's selfless efforts.

“Fair enough. Why aren’t you telling them about Malfoy Manor?”

“I’m not on trial for that,” Draco snapped, unable to help himself. “I can’t very well be my own character witness, can I?”

Potter scoffed and looked at Kingsley. “I probably wouldn’t have made it out of Malfoy Manor alive without him.”

Ron made a skeptical sound, and Hermione shushed him. Draco could hear him whisper something that sounded like, _“I just think that with Dobby’s help, we could have pulled it off,”_ and Hermione hissed, _“Ron, noise carries.”_

Kingsley, easily reading Potter’s reluctance to speak, looked back at Draco. “What happened in Malfoy Manor?”

Draco frowned. “It was around Easter. The three of them - Harry, Ron, Hermione - were brought in by some snatcher. They were also with Dean Thomas and a goblin, but Hermione swore that they’d only just linked up with them after being caught. Harry’s face had gotten all screwed up by a stinging hex, but I recognized Ron and Hermione, so it wasn’t hard to figure out who he was. They asked me to identify him, but I wasn’t _sure,_ you know? Then Bellatrix noticed the sword they had with them and freaked out before anyone could call Voldemort, so they - Harry and Ron - were sent down to the cellars.”

“So all you did was not know for sure that it was Harry?”

“No, not exactly,” Draco muttered. “They sent me down there twice while they - er, questioned Hermione. The first time, the stinging hex had worn off, so I redid it then brought the goblin up to be questioned. While we were upstairs, there was this crack. Someone had apparated into or out of the Manor, but that was supposed to be impossible. They sent me down to check it out. Everyone besides Harry and Ron was gone.” He frowned and wished he could move his limbs around. “He’d gotten everyone out of the Manor within minutes of being imprisoned. That was probably the moment that I knew Harry was going to win, you know? I was - to bet on anyone but Harry Potter at that point was idiotic. It was really just a question of if I was going to live long enough to see it.”

“That was the moment that your allegiance changed?”

“Not exactly. As I said, every option was bad for us at that point. I was just impressed. I wasn’t really thinking that clearly. I remember giving Harry my wand and just going back upstairs like everything was normal. Then they showed up, and everyone duelled, and then my old House-elf apparated into the room, and they escaped with all our wands except my mother’s.”

“And no one thought it was questionable that Harry Potter had burst out of the cellar with your wand?”

“I didn’t tell them it was my wand.”

“Whose wand did you say it was?”

“I said they must’ve stashed one.”

Kingsley raised an eyebrow. “And they believed that?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Draco murmured. “My mother and Bellatrix - they covered it up. I think they suspected I had done it.”

“How?”

“There were only two other witnesses. My mother still had her wand; Dobby had disarmed her, but Harry hadn’t grabbed it. They obliviated and confunded Fenrir Greyback and Wormtail - er, Peter Pettigrew. They destroyed Pettigrew’s wand and told Voldemort that he was the one who had gone downstairs and that Ron and Harry must have overpowered him and stolen his wand. Voldemort killed him on the spot when he heard they’d escaped."

No one seemed concerned that Draco had framed Peter Pettigrew for a crime he did not commit. Draco was pretty sure he saw Potter’s lip twitch in something that might have, if given enough time, grown into a smile. Kingsley seemed surprised by a different part of Draco’s account. “You betrayed Voldemort, and Bellatrix Lestrange covered it up for you? Are we talking about the same Bellatrix Lestrange?”

Draco nodded quickly. “I know why you’re surprised, but she really loved her sister. I don’t think she actually liked me much, but my mother and I are a package deal. The damage had already been done, so I guess she thought there was no reason not to protect me at that point.” With extreme reluctance, he admitted, “I agree with Ron though. I think they probably would have gotten out without my help. It was really clear that they were going to win.”

Kingsley glanced at Harry for confirmation. He shrugged. “I can confirm that story. I might have gotten out without him, but we don’t really need to deal with hypotheticals, do we? I can also confirm that he had no intention - well, no, okay - Draco Malfoy was not going to kill Albus Dumbledore on the Astronomy Tower. He was lowering his wand when the Death Eaters got there.”

“And how can you confirm that?” An elderly witch called from the other side of the room.

Kingsley regarded Harry seriously although Draco would bet that he already knew everything Harry was planning on saying. “You know for a fact that he lowered his wand?”

Harry nodded quickly, and Draco watched him with an expression of shock and horror. He had hoped that Potter could vouch for Draco’s help in Malfoy Manor. He had no idea that there would be more to his witness. “I was paralyzed underneath the platform. I saw all of it. Nevermind the fact that it was always Dumbledore’s plan to be killed by Snape. That testimony is already on record.”

“Was Dumbledore also a horcrux?” a middle-aged wizard asked sarcastically. 

Draco was flabbergasted, and Potter and his friends seemed to react similarly. The Slayer of the Darkest Wizard of All Time bristled and whirled around to glare at the portly wizard, who was instantly terrified. “I’m sorry - was that a joke?”

“No, no, Mr. Potter, sir,” he corrected himself quickly.

Potter was not done. Draco was facing years in Azkaban, and even he could empathize with the sheer panic that this wizard must feel at the idea of incurring Harry Potter's rage. “And where were you during the war? I don’t remember seeing you.”

“I was in the Ministry!”

“How helpful,” Potter said dryly. 

“I am not on trial here!”

Potter exchanged a knowing look with Kingsley and turned back to the crowd. “Okay, then let’s continue talking about someone who _actually provided a valuable service to the war effort,”_ he emphasized scathingly.

Kingsley seemed similarly frustrated but ignored the wizard. “Do you have anything to add about Draco Malfoy’s participation in the Battle of Hogwarts?”

Harry stared straight at Draco and said, “No. That’s it.”

Kingsley nodded. “Well, you’ve got strong character witnesses. However, you have cast all three Unforgivables - all punishable with a lifetime sentence in Azkaban.”

Draco inhaled sharply, then Harry cleared his throat. All eyes snapped back to him immediately.

He raised a hand unnecessarily. “I cast two out of three.”

“The circumstances are different!” an ancient wizard a few rows in front of him cried.

Potter frowned at him. “You don’t even know what the circumstances were.”

“I agree with Harry,” Hermione said in her first official statement of the day. “I don’t necessarily support the _exitus acta probat_ argument, but if you apply it to someone, you need to apply it to everyone.”

“What spell is that?” Ron whispered to her loudly.

“The ends justify the means,” Hermione translated.

“You purposefully used the Latin to confuse people, didn’t you?”

“Ron.”

“What even were the means - or, no, ends of Malfoy using it anyway?” Ron demanded. 

Potter actually groaned, and Ginny hissed, _“Ron, that’s not why we’re here!”_

“When Harry used them, it was for a real purpose! To end the war! Malfoy just used them to save his own skin.”

“Ron, we’re on Draco’s side,” Luna informed him like he might not know why they came. Whispers carried across the whole courtroom, but at least Ginny and Hermione had been tactful enough to pretend their conversation was private. Luna spoke at full volume as the rest of the audience regarded them with various expressions of bemusement. “That’s why we came.”

“Someone was going to point it out. Right?”

“That doesn’t mean it’s your job to do it, Ron!” Ginny snapped.

"As if the devil didn't have enough advocates," Hermione added.

Ron was offended. "The devil?"

Potter messed his hair up absent-mindedly. Draco was instantly distracted from his impending sentence. He hated him so much and was so unbelievably grateful that he'd shown up for Draco's trial. He also had stupid hair. How could anyone focus with such a mess of hair? Draco hated him and it and everything. “When I used the Cruciatus, it was just because I was really pissed off. I would say that saving your own life is a better motivation.”

“When did you use it, mate?” Ron asked. He did not appear to be distracted by Harry Potter's hair. It made absolutely no sense. Did he not realize it had been ruffled?

“Amycus Carrow. He spat in McGonagall’s face.” The headlines tomorrow would read: _Death Eater Trials Continue - All Malfoys Go to Azkaban, Potter Ruffles Hair._

“Oh, well, you’ve got to use it then.”

“Ron!” Ginny growled. “The trial is almost bloody over!”

“Consider it this way,” Hermione said. “If Draco hadn’t used the curses and been allowed to live, then he wouldn’t have been able to help Harry, and Narcissa wouldn’t have had a reason to lie to Voldemort, and Harry would be dead. Possibly twice over.”

Ron looked thoughtful. “Alright, yeah, I can get behind that.”

“Wonderful!” said Luna. “We’re all free to go.”

*

_June 8th, 1998_

_Potter,_

_Thank you for your testimony. I won’t be getting my wand back for another six months, but two weeks plus six months without a wand is a damn sight better than three lifetimes. I owe that to you._

_I don’t pretend that I did not benefit from the changes established in Azkaban. The past two weeks as a prisoner went by easier than a day visit when it was still under the dementors’ control. That said, I hope the Ministry understands what they’re doing sending away the dementors. Contrary to popular belief, I was never under the impression that Azkaban was given to the dementors as a punishment for the prisoners. Azkaban was given to the dementors because they have to go somewhere._

_They’re going to get hungry. Feed them some criminals, or innocents will start to die._

_DM_

_June 9th, 1998_

_Malfoy,_

_Do you really think I’m going to discuss confidential Ministry information with you via owl (or in general)? Your bird may be a force to be reckoned with, but I lived through the Umbridge era - did you see her in Azkaban by the way? Anyway, I have other things to worry about right now. If you’d like to thank me in person, I’m at Hogwarts everyday. Come help with the reconstruction. If you would like to share your concern with an actual member of the Ministry, I start 19th August. I will still not be able to help you, but I will be required to listen._

_Harry_


	2. The Hogwarts Reconstruction (June 1998)

Draco studied his mother’s face while she read the letter. Her lips were pursed in thought but face otherwise blank, as it had been since the two of them received the news that Lucius had been taken straight to Azkaban to serve a six-year sentence with no chance of visitation for at least a year. Like Draco, Narcissa had lost her wand for six months. Unlike Draco, she hadn’t even been shipped off for a cursory sentence in Azkaban, but the two weeks spent locked in the Manor while both her son and husband were in Azkaban seemed to have affected her more than the incarceration had affected Draco himself.

She set the letter down and slid it back across the table to Draco. “Do you plan on going?”

“I’m not sure,” Draco mumbled. “I haven’t got a wand and don’t particularly enjoy the idea of walking straight into Hogwarts with no wand and no friends.”

“You were invited. I can’t imagine Harry Potter would tell you to come to Hogwarts just to let you walk into an ambush.”

“I don’t think he’d be the one to do it,” Draco snapped. “I just think he’ll probably be distracted, being the Savior of the Wizarding World and whatnot.”

It was strange that the person he feared the least was Potter himself, but Potter was years beyond caring about a petty school rivalry. They both knew that the worst thing Potter could do to Draco was nothing. If he had actively invited Draco somewhere, then it was likely in Draco’s best interest to go. Still, Draco would have a hundred other enemies inside the walls of the school who wouldn’t necessarily follow Potter’s code of ethics. Draco had no plans of making public appearances while defenseless. Then again, Draco would always be defenseless. He could never risk the blow to his reputation that would come from fighting back.

“You could invite a friend with you.”

“Which one - the one in Azkaban who blames me for his best friend’s death or the one in Switzerland who tried to convince the entire school to turn Potter over to the Dark Lord?”

“I’ve been speaking with Madam Zabini.”

Draco sighed. His failure to impress Blaise Zabini had always weighed on him, especially considering how much Draco’s mum clearly wanted Draco to befriend him. It was Potter refusing to shake his hand all over again every single day for seven years. “Blaise hates me, mum. The possibility of that friendship disappeared years ago. He thinks I’m gauche and gets secondhand embarrassment when he looks at me.”

Narcissa looked shocked. “Who told you that?”

“Blaise!”

“So cutting,” she murmured. She didn’t say anything to dispute Blaise’s claim. “I believe he appreciated being named as a Potter sympathizer during your trial. Slytherins are in a bad way right now, Draco. The whole House is being grouped together with the Death Eaters.”

“It is the blood supremacist House,” Draco pointed out reasonably.

Narcissa frowned at him. “Don’t disavow your House, Draco. Slytherin is about much more than blood supremacy.”

Draco wanted to tell her that it really wasn’t but managed to control himself. “It is in our best interest to distance ourselves from one another, mother.” 

It was the truth. He felt this most acutely given Pansy’s sudden disappearance. She had received no criminal trial but had earned a tremendous amount of public scorn and had fled the country while Draco was still in Azkaban. He didn’t blame her. Separately, Draco believed they each had the chance to find some sort of redemption, but together they would forever look like a pair of evil Slytherin Voldemort-sympathizers. He and Pansy had never discussed this decision, but they were so alike that he assumed she had reached the same conclusion. She hadn’t even tried to reach out to tell him that she was leaving.

“You think too little of yourself. I’ll reach out to Madam Zabini.”

Draco fought back a groan and nodded, experiencing a huge wave of firsthand embarrassment as he imagined Blaise receiving a letter in which Draco’s mum begged him to accompany her wandless ex-Death Eater son to a place where no one had ever wanted him. He had always felt isolated at Hogwarts, but his connection to his father and, later, the Death Eaters had forced most people to pretend to respect him. He was now going to see what everyone really thought of Draco Malfoy.

He found himself unable to withhold the groan, and Narcissa gave him a disappointed look.

*

Blaise did not answer. Draco had never consciously expected him to answer, but the absurd amount of hope he had felt when Potter and his friends showed up at his trial had apparently warped his perspective. Now he was shocked and disappointed when forced to accept that the world still didn’t really want him around. 

His lack of response seemed to move Narcissa more than it had Draco. Any faith that she had that this was the right thing to do suddenly vanished at the idea that she was sending her only free and living family member (besides a sister to whom she really ought to reach out) into a den of enemies. She was practically beside herself. It hurt Draco’s heart but strengthened his resolve to join the reconstruction.

“Draco, you can’t,” she begged as he knelt down to lace his boots without magic. It was more difficult than he would have expected. Did children do this? How do children manage this? Had Draco done this as a child? Surely not. He had absolutely no muscle memory for the task. Who had laced his boots for him? Bitsy, probably. “A hundred students with wands, all of whom have lost at least one person they loved during the war? It’s an unnecessary risk.”

“I’m going to have to reintegrate eventually,” Draco pointed out. He held his laces in two loops and frowned down at them, completely stumped about how to proceed. 

“Yes, in six months! When you can defend yourself!”

“Realistically, mother, if someone tried to attack me, I wouldn’t be able to defend myself even if I had a wand. The optics would be bad.” He experimentally tied the loops around each other, and they slipped apart right away.

“You are endangering a valuable relationship with Harry Potter.”

She was saying quite explicitly that if Potter got to know him more, he would inevitably like him less. She was probably right. It hurt a lot more than he thought it would. His hands shook so badly that he dropped one of his loops. “I want to do it, though.”

“I forbid it. You need to lie low. Stay here. It will blow over.”

“It might blow over for you,” he said in a shrill voice. He yanked the laces sharply to pull them tighter than taut. “You’re not marked! Everyone knows you saved his life in the forest! If I don’t do something publicly, then it’s going to follow me forever! There won’t always be reconstruction efforts for me to help. I need to take the opportunity while I can still do something useful.”

“Draco, I really urge you to reconsider. It isn’t safe.”

“Nothing is safe other than staying in this house,” he protested. “I can’t do that, mother. I can’t be here! Everything feels like him!”

“Your father will be-”

“I don’t mean my father!” Draco shouted. “This house is evil now! You know there are ghosts now, right? You’ve heard them screaming? We never had ghosts before! This house has existed for centuries, and we’d never had a ghost before!”

“Sweetheart,” she said very softly. “Please don’t give me something else to worry about. I cannot be worried about you right now.”

Draco fumbled another knot and let the laces drop in frustration. “I need to do this.”

*

He had felt inordinately pleased with himself when he succeeded in lacing his boots without a wand. The laces were now in thick, clumsy triple knots, but they held as he walked from Hogsmeade, intentionally thirty minutes late to avoid encountering any mobs of students. The thought of walking in with all those eyes on him was close to unbearable. He missed the days when the Malfoy’s Floo connected directly to Severus’s office. He missed Severus in general. He had, apparently single-handedly, convinced Potter to keep an open mind about all former Death Eaters. Even in death, he’d given Draco more than anyone else in his life.

The pride of a boot well-laced vanished the moment he got close enough to see the castle in the distance. The reconstruction effort had a long way to go. The entire North Tower was blown to bits. The gaping holes that Draco remembered being created by the giants had been repaired with some discolored rock, but many windows were still missing, so thoroughly smashed that there was no glass left for a simple _Reparo._ The Quidditch hoops had all fallen down, and the grass was torn up. Draco couldn’t remember what it had looked like after the battle. Hogwarts architecture hadn’t been his primary concern, but this was grim, and if Potter and his friends had been here everyday, this was a substantial improvement.

He froze, eyes locked on the decimated North Tower. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be here! It would be cruel for Draco to show his face after what the Death Eaters had done. He had to turn back. This was a ridiculous, borderline suicidal idea. He had to turn back. He couldn’t be here. He had to turn back.

The world started spinning around him. He squeezed his eyes shut and reached out for something to hold onto to steady himself, but there was nothing there. He was going to faint or vomit or both. His blood was pounding in his ears when someone called, “Draco,” in a rather pleasant voice.

He opened his eyes reluctantly and practically gasped in relief. “Blaise.” He stared at him for a second of pure, disbelieving gratitude then spat, “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

Blaise shrugged nonchalantly. He looked as relaxed and well-groomed as he ever had. His good looks used to be the object of intense envy for Draco, but now he was fully in awe of Blaise. It was the kind of pitiful, unrequited hero worship that was heretofore reserved for Harry Potter. As Draco clumsily attempted to play both sides, Blaise had played neither side. He had never gone out of his way to support the Death Eaters nor to defend the persecuted students. He simply stayed calm and waited for the balance of power to shift. If Pansy reminded Draco uncomfortably of himself, then Blaise was Draco’s antithesis. “I hadn’t decided yet. Are we doing this, then?”

“What changed your mind?”

“I thought about some Hufflepuff fourth year hexing you while you didn’t have a wand and thought to myself… _Hm, I would prefer it if that didn’t happen._ So I’m here. How’s your mum?”

Draco actually threw his arms around him, and Blaise pushed him off delicately. “Please, spare me your sentimentality. Let’s go represent our House.”

“We could also wait out here for a little bit if you wanted.”

Blaise looked him over scornfully. “I did not come here to hide, Draco. There isn’t a single member of our House in that building besides Professor Slughorn. They’re thinking of disbanding it entirely.”

“Are they really?” Draco asked, horrified. The worst part was that it made complete sense. Almost every Death Eater had been a Slytherin. Not a single member of Slytherin had stayed to fight in the Battle of Hogwarts. No one from Slytherin was present for the reconstruction. The school might be better off if it re-sorted all the current Slytherins and expanded the three houses. Maybe surrounding problematic students with positive influences was a better idea than concentrating the lot of them in the dungeons.

“Yes, they are. I would also prefer if that didn’t happen, so man up. We’re going inside.”

“Is anyone else coming?” Draco whispered urgently, grabbing Blaise’s arm before he could stride into the building. He had no idea how Blaise could seem so calm, like he was just walking back into the Great Hall after a morning spent on the grounds.

Blaise sneered at him. “Yes, the redeemable ones should be here shortly.”

“And which ones are that?”

His sneer grew more pronounced. “Millicent, the Greengrasses. Graham and Flint, possibly.”

“Is that it?”

“Apparently not many children of Death Eaters want to come back here,” Blaise said mockingly. “Now let’s go. You’re not proving anyone wrong about being a coward. Get yourself together.”

Draco took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders back, straightening his spine and lifting his chin, completely prepared to walk inside before a girl shouted, “Oi! Oi! You are not making me walk in there by myself, Blaise Zabini!”

They both spun around to face Millicent Bulstrode, who also dismissed any sentimental greetings. Draco’s lip twitched. There was something about Millicent’s presence that always made him feel remarkably more cheerful. She cut through the tension. Together, she and Blaise had spent a good portion of their seventh year hiding in the library and were, as such, probably the least stained of the Slytherin seventh years. When Draco had seen her, she was always talking loudly and pretending to smoke her wand like a cigarette. She claimed it helped her relax even though, as far as Draco knew, Millicent had never actually smoked a cigarette. He wasn’t sure why she did it, but she’d offered him a fake drag right after he’d used the Imperius on Ginny Weasley, and it was the most accepted he’d ever felt by a peer. At least, a peer from whom he desperately craved acceptance. Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy had accepted him from the beginning. Crabbe was dead now, and Blaise had labelled Goyle and Pansy as irredeemable. Draco was irredeemable. It made no sense. 

Millicent scrutinized Draco and announced, “You look bloody terrible.”

“I feel terrible,” Draco said, unable to stop smiling to add weight to his words. “Thank you for coming.”

“It’s no bother. I’d wanted to come but didn’t want to be the only Slytherin. I’m glad to have you two make me look better relatively.” 

With those words of encouragement, she grabbed both their arms and dragged them stumbling into the building. It was not the sort of dignified entrance that Draco had wanted.

It took approximately ten seconds for all conversations to halt as soon as the Slytherins entered the Great Hall. As expected, the Gryffindor table was crowded and boisterous, and the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables both boasted a respectable number of students. The Slytherin table was completely empty. Draco didn’t know if he was remarkably self-conscious or if everyone really was focused specifically on him. Both, probably.

Millicent marched them over to the empty Slytherin table in dead silence. Draco avoided everyone’s eyes and stumbled when someone finally broke the quiet and shouted, “What are you doing here?”

“Shove it up your arse, Boot,” Millicent called back easily. Draco was immensely grateful that she’d joined them and allowed her to push him down onto the bench at the Slytherin table, where a small amount of food sprang up to greet them.

Angry whispers broke out across the hall, and Zabini murmured, “Just ignore them,” as he reached very casually for an upside down goblet in front of him. 

Draco could not look at any of the students, whose collective fury and indignation was practically palpable, but he did survey the head table. Most of the professors were acting like nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Headmistress McGonagall was scrutinizing them thoughtfully and gave Draco a brief nod when they locked eyes, and Professor Slughorn was beaming at the three of them, clearly delighted that anyone from his house had shown up.

“Oh, what now?” Millicent muttered, and Draco looked away to see Terry Boot approaching them with a group of Ravenclaws, including Marcus Belby and Mandy Brocklehurst in addition to three irrelevancies whom Draco didn’t recognize and had no intention of learning the names of. In a louder voice, she asked, “What do you want, Terry?”

“I want to know why the Death Eater would show his face here after what he did,” Terry spat, not actually looking at Draco directly.

“Oh. What did he do exactly?” Blaise asked in a politely curious voice.

“Show some respect,” growled Marcus Belby. “There are people here who lost family.”

“That’s too bad,” said Millicent. “Draco, did you kill any of their family members?”

“No, I did not,” Draco forced out through gritted teeth.

“Draco didn’t kill their family,” Millicent reported flippantly. “I’ll keep an eye out for the person who did, though.”

Terry’s face hardened. “Don’t be insouciant, Bulstrode. People died.”

“Yes, well, we didn’t kill them, so I don’t know what you want me to say here.”

A girl pointed at Draco and said, as if she was tattling on him, “He killed Dumbledore.”

“Common misconception,” Millicent said breezily. “Any other accusations?”

“He worked for the Carrows!” Boot shouted. “He’s tortured at least ten people in this very room! With the Cruciatus!”

Millicent paused, and Blaise muttered, “Can’t argue that one, Mill.”

Draco was at war internally. Half of him suggested that he should just leave now; he had proved his point by showing up. No one wanted him here, and this was as unnecessarily painful for him as it was for them. The other half of him responded to insult in one way and one way only. It was this half that won out. Draco straightened his spine and fixed Boot with his most disdainful sneer. “I would be more than delighted to-” 

He was cut off from his self-sabotage by someone sliding down onto the bench next to him. All six of the Ravenclaws’ eyes bugged out in shock as Potter said, “Good to see you, Malfoy. Glad you brought friends. So Slughorn needs help sorting through old potions supplies. The fighting didn’t get too bad down there, but some jars broke in Snape’s old closet and are mixing… unpleasantly. He’s trying to identify what they might have been from the fumes coming out from under the door so he can neutralize them before proceeding inside. Sounds up your alley.” He inclined his head to the other two Slytherins. “Blaise, Millicent, good to see you two again.”

“And it’s been left to fester for a month?” Draco asked, too surprised to remember what’s really going on around him. For a second, he wondered if Potter could actually handle political diplomacy. Seemed unlikely. 

“Harry,” protested Boot weakly.

“Oh, hey, Terry,” he greeted as if he hadn’t noticed them. “Madam Hooch is going to put back up the goalposts today. It shouldn’t be too hard, but there are strict regulations for Quidditch pitches. You can use a school broom if you don’t have your own; they didn’t get too badly banged up.”

“You’re really just going to let him flaunt himself around in here?” Belby asked in horror.

“Yes, I invited him, Marcus,” Potter said firmly, glaring at the group of them. “I would hardly call being forcibly dragged to the furthest corner of the room ‘flaunting’.”

Belby sputtered. “He’s upsetting the other students.”

“Really?” Potter asked dryly. “Is someone upset?”

“We’re upset!” shouted Boot. 

Potter’s eyes finally narrowed. “Then don’t act like you’re doing this for the good of other students, will you?”

Most of the Ravenclaws had the decency to look slightly abashed at that point, but Boot continued, “Fucking look at him, Harry! He’s got the Dark Mark!”

Potter pretended to look Draco over. “That’s likely why his sleeve is rolled down.”

“You can’t want someone in here who ha-”

“Possession of the Dark Mark is not a crime. Professor Snape had the Dark Mark,” Potter said coldly. “Would you want me to kick him out?”

“He is not Professor Snape,” Boot spat.

“Well-observed,” Draco murmured and felt Potter kick him under the table as an unmistakable sign for Draco to shut up and let him deal with this.

“Alright, so which one of you volunteers to go deal with the noxious fumes in the dungeons in his place?” Potter prompted. No one spoke, and he continued, “Or would you all prefer to go fix the Quidditch pitch while someone else deals with the toxic dungeons?”

“Fine,” Boot seethed. “It’s a fitting job for him anyway.”

“Yes, I thought so too,” Potter agreed. “Fancy a match after we’re done for the day?”

“I - yes, okay,” Boot grumbled. 

He made to step away, then opened his mouth like he had more to say. Belby nudged him, and they returned to the Ravenclaw table. The two girls murmured, “Hi, Harry” and “Good to see you, Harry,” before following after them.

Potter watched them go darkly then muttered, “Fucking Ravenclaws.”

Millicent snorted up some pumpkin juice, and Blaise asked, “So was the noxious fumes bit a lie, then?”

“Oh, no, they’re very real,” Potter said quickly. “I’m glad you three are here.”

Blaise almost snarled at the hero of the Wizarding World. Draco had never felt so supported by his friends even when they all idolized him and his family. If he’d known that this was what acceptance felt like, he would have stopped being a prat a long time ago. “Yes, I couldn’t shake the feeling that luring him back into Hogwarts without his wand was a trap.”

“Fair point,” Potter agreed easily. He did not address whether or not it had been a trap. Draco figured that, if Potter wanted something bad to happen to him, it would not require such a convoluted plan. He craned his neck to look over at the Gryffindor table. Ginny Weasley looked up to meet his eyes, and Potter nodded at her before turning back to Blaise. “So how’s your mum?”

“She’s well,” Blaise said hesitantly. Millicent was giving Draco an odd look like she was just now realizing something that he hadn’t told them. “How are - you?”

“Excellent,” Potter replied with a hint of mockery. “Really excellent.” He did look slightly better than he had at Draco’s trial if only because it seemed like he had showered and changed his clothes recently. Not that very day, but certainly recently. He glanced at Millicent, “Do you play Quidditch?”

“No,” she answered.

He looked her over. “That’s a shame. You’d make a fair beater.”

She bristled and said, “Bugger off!” while both Draco and Blaise burst out laughing. That got about as much attention from their other students as Draco’s arrival had. The only thing worse than the Slytherins showing up for the reconstruction was the Slytherins cozying up to and corrupting their Savior.

“What are you lot laughing about?” Ron asked with a clearly forced, over-the-top smile as he sat down next to Potter, followed by Ginny and Hermione. He looked around with real interest. “So this is the Slytherin table.”

“Yes, you will notice that we see the head table from a very different angle over here,” Blaise said in a wry voice. “Hello, Ron. Hermione, Ginny.” His eyes flicked over Ginny Weasley lasciviously, and Draco wondered if that was better or worse than the dumbfounded way he himself stared at Potter. 

It appeared that absolutely everyone at the table found his use of their first names disconcerting, including Blaise himself. Ron raised an eyebrow and said, “Blaise.”

“It was great of you three to show up,” Hermione said. “Last students who went in the dungeons fainted before they could get anything done.”

“Did they,” Millicent said darkly.

“Oh, don’t worry! That won’t happen again this time! Probably. We’re going to use these muggle protective suits - hazmat suits. They should help.”

“And when you say ‘we’, do you mean the three of us?” Blaise clarified. None of them dared speak ill of the idea of wearing muggle technology in front of the Gryffindors.

“Hermione was the student who fainted last time,” Ron said defensively. 

Millicent swore under her breath, which made Ginny and Harry smile a little. 

“Who thought it was a good idea to let unknown reagents sit together in a closed room for over a month?” Blaise demanded. Draco had a great respect for the way in which he and Millicent ignored the staggering fame of the four Gryffindors at their table. That was a luxury afforded to people who hadn’t escaped a multi-year Azkaban sentence due exclusively to the grace of Harry Potter.

“We threw up some stasis spells,” Ron protested. “A lot of stasis spells! We’ve been very busy.”

“And what have you all been doing?” Blaise asked, sounding equal parts intrigued and scornful. 

“Everything,” Ginny said passionately. It claimed Blaise’s complete attention in an instant. She was unmoved by the way that Blaise’s gaze raked over her, but Harry seemed annoyed. Draco thought that Blaise should be unbelievably flattered that he could make the Chosen One feel threatened enough to be jealous. It definitely made Draco feel threatened, jealous, and annoyed. “There’s been intense structural and magical damage. Wards are flickering. The stairs don’t move anymore. Doors aren’t opening - no one can get into any of the common rooms. The Room of Requirement is still on fire.”

“The Room of Requirement will always be on fire,” Draco muttered without really thinking about it. He received two looks of confusion from the Slytherins and four of surprise from the Gryffindors. “The Come and Go Room,” he explained to Blaise and Millicent. 

“I know what it is,” Blaise snapped. “Why is it on fi - oh. That was where it happened then?”

Millicent sighed. “Which one of you cast it?”

“Crabbe,” Ron answered after Draco stayed silent. 

“Hm,” said Millicent. “Well, at least it was a just death.”

Draco glared at her, and she shrugged. Blaise was frowning at Draco. “Why hasn’t it gone out yet though? It’s been a month. Surely all the fuel and oxygen is gone.”

“Fiendfyre,” Draco mumbled.

“We actually did want to talk to you about that, Draco,” Hermione said softly. “We’ve been reaching out to some experts on the - well, the Dark Arts, but no one has been able to provide a countercurse yet.”

Draco scowled. “If I’d known the countercurse, believe me: I would have shared the information.”

“Who do you think would’ve taught it to him?” Potter asked, forgetting about his irrational jealousy and switching to interrogation mode. 

“The Carrows, I assume.” Draco looked at Blaise and Millicent. “Did either of you hear about people using it last year?”

“No, but Crabbe and Goyle were their proteges, weren’t they?” Blaise seemed to be taking this question very seriously. “The Death Eaters weren’t very big on teaching countercurses. That wasn’t the point.”

“There must be one though,” Millicent mused. “If there weren’t, then you’ve got to assume that just one use of the curse would eventually take over the whole planet, right? I’ve heard it can travel over water.”

“Exactly!” said Hermione. “The best we’ve come up with is that the caster is the one who has to lift the curse.”

“How unfortunate,” said Millicent.

Draco chewed on his bottom lip. “The Room of Requirement is restraining it?”

Ron nodded. “Harry and Hermione won’t let students come back while the room is still on fire, though. They think it’s unsafe.”

“Ron, it is unsafe!” snapped Hermione. 

“They can’t get in! The doorknob would burn them.”

“We are not letting students live in a building where one room, especially one with immense magical capabilities, is actively on fire with one of the most dangerous curses known to wizardkind,” Hermione declared with complete finality. No one questioned whether or not it was Harry and Hermione’s decision when Hogwarts would reopen.

Draco glanced up at Harry. “Does the Room still work?”

“How would we know?” Ron interjected. “The door burnt us. A pretty nasty burn too.” He lifted a hand to demonstrate the blisters over his palm. “Madam Pomfrey couldn’t even fix it!”

Harry and Ginny showed off the similar blisters on their own palms, and Hermione muttered, _“You didn’t all need to give it a try.”_

“You wouldn’t need to go inside necessarily,” Draco said thoughtfully. “You think all the magic in the school is gone? Is that why the stairs don’t work?”

“Squib building,” Millicent whispered to Blaise, who smiled at her appreciatively.

“No, the magic overall is fine.” Hermione sounded very sure of herself. “Some parts just got damaged.”

“How do you know?”

“We checked out the Chamber,” Ron boasted. “Harry can’t speak Parseltongue anymore, but I still can!”

“You cannot call those noises you made Parseltongue,” Ginny said firmly. 

“Tell that to the girls’ bathroom sink, Gin.” Ron punctuated his certainty with some garbled hissing noises that brought amused grins to both Blaise and Millicent. “You’ve just got to hiss until you’ve got it right. No one can actually _learn_ Parseltongue.”

Draco was too distracted with thoughts of the Room of Requirement to consider very deeply what he was doing when he mimicked the two noises he knew for sure in Parseltongue. Everyone stared at him in shock, and Draco asked, “What?”

“How did you do that?” Ron demanded. He made some noises back at Draco like they were having a conversation, and both Harry and Hermione grinned at him fondly. 

“Plot twist: I was actually the Heir of Slytherin,” Draco said in a dull voice. “No, I spent a year in a house with a giant snake.”

Blaise nodded wisely. “Immersion is really the only way to learn a foreign language.”

“What did it mean?” Millicent asked eagerly.

“I believe what he said was: _Hi, I’m Draco,”_ Ron explained.

“Doesn’t matter.” Draco was pretty sure that, given the inevitable outcome whenever he’d heard it, it translated to _Kill, Nagini_ or maybe _eat this person alive._ “Here’s my thought: If the Room can still work, you should be able to control the size from outside the room, right? You just order it that you need it to be a specific size.”

Potter seemed momentarily disturbed by Draco’s attempt at Parseltongue _,_ but Hermione’s attention was grabbed. She was the valuable one in situations like this anyway. She nodded eagerly for Draco to continue. 

“We can assume the fire has completely filled the room. If it’s effectively trapped inside it, then it will take on the volume of the room. So if you ask the room to have no volume?”

Hermione gaped at him. “The Room would compress it out of existence.”

“If its magic still works,” Draco added, because Hermione was looking far too optimistic. “Fiendfyre is pretty destructive.” _It killed a piece of Voldemort’s bloody soul. It can destroy the Room of Requirement._

“You think that would work?” Ron asked. “We tried asking the fire to go out.”

“The Room can’t control the fiendfyre itself.” Draco had no idea why he felt so sure of himself. He had no idea what the Room of Requirement could or couldn’t do, but it had always understood Draco. He felt as if they had understood each other. “Nothing can. Hopefully the Room can still control itself.”

“Blimey, Draco, are you smart?” Ron sounded genuinely baffled by the possibility. “You never let on.”

Blaise burst out laughing, which struck Draco as unnecessary. Millicent snorted and said, “Draco’s the smartest idiot you’ve ever met. He was actually number two in our year for most of it.”

“Really makes you wonder what Ravenclaw’s all about, doesn’t it?” Blaise asked with a nod of recognition to Hermione, who had, of course, been first in their year every year.

Draco looked directly at Harry. He had forgotten briefly that he’d come to Hogwarts for something more important than the reconstruction. “Which is why you should listen to me, you know.”

“You haven’t even been proven right yet,” Potter told him. “I’ll tell you what: If your advice helps us put out the fiendfyre, I’ll listen to your dementors argument.” He banged the table decisively with his unburnt palm. “Should we go?”

“Excuse me,” said Blaise. “‘Dementors argument’?”

“They banished all the dementors from Azkaban,” Draco reported.

“Oh, yeah, how was that, Draco? Forgot to ask.”

Draco boggled at Millicent, but Blaise interrupted before he was forced to come up with an answer. “Where’d you send them instead?”

“Away,” said Potter curtly.

Blaise’s mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ that let Draco know he too saw the inherent flaw in that plan. “So what are they eating?”

“They’re not.”

“You do know you can’t starve dementors, Potter?” Blaise asked sharply. He did not seem aware of his return to surnames. Harry stared at him. “Have they been sighted yet? Where are they now? Remind me to stay far, far away from that God-forsaken place.”

Draco pointed at Blaise like his reaction was evidence of Draco’s point. “See?”

Potter frowned. “We’ll discuss after I figure out the Room. Hermione, can you help them with the hazmat suits?”

“Suddenly this toxic spill doesn’t seem so terrifying,” Blaise called after him scathingly as he set out for the seventh floor with Ron and Ginny. Once they’d disappeared, Blaise sighed heavily and looked at Draco. “I suppose this is why you seem so untraumatized. I didn’t think to question it.”

“What, did you chalk it up to his strength of character?” Hermione asked under her breath before standing up and gesturing for the three Slytherins to follow her down to the dungeons. “Let’s get you fitted.”

*

It was an absolutely miserable day for the three of them. Slughorn seemed over the moon to have members of his House return for the reconstruction, which moderately raised Draco’s spirits, but that was the only redeeming part of the entire afternoon. The Muggle hazmat suits, however effective, were cumbersome and sweltering. The thick gloves made it damn near impossible to handle any of the indicator solutions, and what would have taken a few hours with their bare hands ended up taking the better part of the day before all the components were identified and properly neutralized.

When they finally set foot in the closet, Millicent said, “Bugger this,” and Draco and Blaise were quick to agree.

“Don’t you want to find out if Potter was successful?” Blaise asked curiously as Draco attempted to restore life in the sweaty white hair plastered against his skull. “Convince him to use your friends and family to appease the dementors?”

“You know that isn’t my motivation,” Draco muttered. “They may turn Azkaban into a nightmare, but there is huge security in knowing where they are and what they’re eating.” He would have far preferred two weeks with the dementors to a lifetime of paranoia. 

“And fortunately, Draco’s already out of Azkaban,” Millicent pointed out. 

“Do you think the guards are treating them much better than the dementors would?” Draco demanded.

“Depends on the guard, I suppose,” said Blaise. 

“That’s the point, partially. At least the dementors were treating everyone equally.”

“They weren’t, though,” said Millicent. “Not really. There’s a reason Potter had to learn the Patronus at age thirteen. You can see why he might want to think that the dementors are out of everyone’s hair forever?”

“He didn’t defeat _evil,”_ Draco growled. “He defeated Voldemort. The world doesn’t get a breather just because he wants it to have one.”

“Not arguing with you, Draco,” Millicent said lightly. “Dementors make me want to shit my bloody pants. I’d take a hundred Voldemorts. Granted, Voldemort was never a threat to me personally, but I think my point is clear.”

Blaise patted Draco’s shoulder in a detached expression of support. “Here’s a suggestion, then: Maybe let’s not get involved in policies involving Dark creatures. Dark anything, really. Let’s stay far, far away from such policies, and also from the creatures themselves. And while we stay far away from dementors and their associated policies and sundry forms of darkness, let’s go meet Daphne for a drink at the Three Broomsticks.”

*

The Three Broomsticks was moderately crowded when they arrived. Draco suspected there would be a huge influx of Hogwarts students after the reconstruction efforts and potential Quidditch pick-up game were finished for the day. He froze on the threshold, struggling to remember if he’d entered this establishment since the day he’d accidentally cursed Katie Bell. If he had, it had been hidden beneath his haughty and condescending Death Eater shell. He imagined looking Madam Rosmerta in the eye and almost bolted.

Millicent gave him a gentle shove. Reading some thought that his brain hadn’t even articulated, apparently a special ability unique to Millicent Bulstrode, she assured him, “You’re free, and nothing is going to change that. Nothing will get you sent back there.”

“Oh,” breathed Draco before she abandoned her soft hand and pushed him inside. She snickered as he stumbled, and Blaise deigned to let Draco grab his shoulder to stay upright. There was a small but real chance that Draco had made actual friends, the proper sort whom he liked and respected. The thought terrified him. It was easier to live with nothing left to lose. 

“Blaise, Millie, over here!” Daphne Greengrass shouted across the pub. She was standing up and beckoning them towards a small table in the corner. She didn’t say Draco’s name aloud, perhaps to spare him unnecessary attention, because she did smile at him warmly as he approached.

“Wonderful of you two to join us,” Millicent gushed sarcastically as she hugged Daphne. Draco was surprised to see Daphne’s little sister, Astoria, pop up to hug her afterwards. It was strange to imagine this group hanging out and being friends in a circle totally isolated from Draco’s. “We’ve been cleaning up toxic spills in the dungeons all day. What have you been up to?”

“I started a book,” said Astoria cheerfully. “Then we had a picnic by the lake, then I finished my book. Partially at the lake, partially at the window bench in the living room.”

“Yes, I also read a book at the lake and had a picnic, but unlike Astoria, I finished my book on the sofa in the living room,” drawled Daphne. It was clear both of the sisters were mocking them, but Daphne really rubbed it in. “It’s been quite a day. Toxic spills in the dungeons, you say?”

“I think there was one of those in my book!” Astoria added. They were both struggling not to laugh. “No, you know what, now that I think about it, it was definitely also a beautiful lake on a sunny day.”

Daphne cracked and doubled over laughing while Astoria maintained an admirably innocent expression. Blaise scoffed dismissively but was smiling in spite of himself when he wrapped Daphne in his arms and kissed the top of her head. Still shaking with laughter, she turned her face up to meet his, and Draco flushed and averted his eyes. The relationship made complete sense. They were the two best-looking students in their class, possibly in the entire school. He couldn’t put his finger on what part of it made him so uncomfortable.

He glanced up to meet Astoria’s eyes. She had been studying him with that quietly thoughtful expression that most of this group used on him but smiled when he looked at her. “How was Azkaban, Draco?”

“I, er - can’t complain.”

Daphne resurfaced to taunt, “Draco Malfoy can’t complain? I’m shocked.”

“Just wait,” Blaise assured her. “It knocked an unfathomable amount of humility into him.”

“I’m right here!” Draco snapped.

“You can complain if you’d like to,” Astoria told him.

Draco snarled at her. “I really can’t.”

She was unmoved. “Alright then. How’s your mother?”

“She’s - I think she’s okay.” Realizing he was being quite rude to the first person who had inquired about his well-being with any sort of genuine interest, Draco muttered, “Thank you for asking.”

“Oh, wow,” said Daphne. “Maybe you were right, Blaise.”

“Don’t talk about him like he’s not here,” Astoria chided. “Would you like something to drink? I can get it for you.”

Draco glanced over his shoulder to the bar where Madam Rosmerta was chatting pleasantly with a group of patrons. The color drained from his face, and he turned back to smile at Astoria weakly. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“I’ll get us a round,” Millicent interjected. “You’d be useless anyway, Astoria. Seeing as you’re - what, twelve?”

“Sixteen!”

“A likely story. Alright, cough up. First round’s on Draco.”

Draco didn’t even object as he handed her a few galleons. Daphne appeared stunned by his lack of resistance and gaped at him quite rudely until Blaise guided her back down into the booth. After a second to collect her thoughts, she blurted out, “Has your family really inherited all the Lestrange and Black money?”

“Daphne, that’s very impolite,” Astoria stage-whispered. “He was already rich enough.”

“We did,” Draco murmured. “Well, not the Black money. A lot of that went to Potter. But the assets of Rodolphus and Bellatrix, yes.”

Daphne rolled her eyes. “Leave it to the Malfoys to benefit from the war again.”

“My father is in Azkaban,” Draco spat.

“Not undeserved.”

“Did I say it was undeserved? I just think it’s a huge stretch to say that we benefited from the war only because we now have more dusty gold that we’re never going to touch.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Blaise interrupted. “Money was enough to rebuild your family name during the corrupt Fudge years, but we’re not living in that time anymore, are we? We’re in the Potter years.”

“Which is, I assume, where this sudden interest in the Hogwarts reconstruction came from?” Daphne asked. She didn’t sound like she thought the Hogwarts reconstruction was a very good idea.

“He was trying to suck up to Potter,” Blaise informed her. 

“Ah, yes, of course.”

“But it was a good idea nonetheless. You should have been there.”

“Why?” Daphne drawled. They mostly ignored Millicent as she sat down with them and attempted to catch up on the thread of the conversation while passing out glasses. Draco gave her a brief nod, and Astoria beamed at her as she accepted a drink that she was certainly not old enough to drink. “We all know Slytherin House is doomed. They may pretend it’s an ongoing discussion, but Slytherin is getting shut down.”

Astoria frowned. For a second, Draco assumed that the drink had simply gone down painfully, then she objected, “They can’t do that!”

“They should,” muttered Draco, and the three girls turned to stare at him in shock. 

“Don’t mind him,” Blaise said. “Draco’s basically a blood traitor at this point.”

Draco was affronted although, based on the calm way that Blaise had made this announcement, he did not think Blaise really judged him too harshly. “How could I be a blood traitor?”

“Yeah, Blaise,” Millicent joked. “Draco’s as inbred as they come.”

Blaise chuckled then fixed Draco with a serious look. “You are a blood traitor the exact same way that Sirius and Regulus Black were both blood traitors. Are there other ways to be a blood traitor?”

Daphne cleared her throat. “Excuse me, but we are the first group of Slytherins to show their faces in public since the Battle of Hogwarts, and I would love it if we were not overheard discussing blood status like this. Draco, no one is saying you aren’t inbred. Blaise, you’re fine, but shut the fuck up anyway.”

Draco recoiled. “I was not defending the point of me being inbred!”

Millicent held up her hands to pause the conversation. “I think we’re all on the same page that Draco is inbred.”

“This joke stopped being funny a minute ago,” Draco snapped. “I don’t think I can be labelled a blood traitor for thinking that there are some real issues with the structure of Slytherin House.”

“No, you can be labelled a blood traitor for-”

“Shut it, Blaise!” Daphne hissed. “I will leave.”

Blaise sneered at her then turned it on Draco. “Please, Draco. Enlighten us as to why the House that you _loved_ for seven years and _desperately_ wanted to be part of for the ten before that - enlighten us as to why it’s bad and should be disbanded.”

Both Daphne and Astoria were watching him closely, and Draco took a deep breath. “Well, there’s really three major issues: The philosophical backbone of the house, the relationship to the other three houses, and the practical behavior of many members of Slytherin House during the last two wars.”

“Merlin, have you written an essay on this?” Blaise drawled, but Astoria waved him off to listen more closely to Draco.

Draco turned red. “If you think about what Slytherin House actually stands for, it’s not really something that we’re supposed to value nowadays. We can spout that shite about ambition and cunning, but Salazar Slytherin really just wanted to teach pure-bloods. The creation of the House was based on the idea that pure-bloods are worthier of a wizarding education than wizards with muggle blood.”

Blaise sighed dramatically, and Astoria put her hand on top of Draco’s to urge him to continue. He tried and failed to give her a grateful smile. “So then you have a whole House based on the idea that pure-blood wizards are superior - wizards that were probably raised by parents who were blood supremacists - and you put them in this school where the other three Houses hate them. Everyone views them as the villains in every single encounter. The common room basically becomes an echo chamber where everyone absorbs and exaggerates all the worst opinions of their peers in a sort of blood supremacist groupthink. Then, because everyone else in the school hates them, they begin to feel victimized. It seems like they’ll never be respected in the world as it is, so the only way to get respect is to try to change the world so that everyone is forced to value what they value. This makes the members easy pickings for Dark Lords to recruit them. There is a reason why almost all of the Death Eaters were Slytherins, and the only Gryffindor was so deeply pathetic that he made his victim complex for himself.”

He paused to take a long drink then caught his breath and finished, “So now everyone remembers the House as a bunch of Voldemort sympathizers who tortured classmates under Umbridge and the Carrows, wanted to turn Harry Potter over to the Dark Lord, and refused to fight in the actual war. Plus, a lot of us are children of Death Eaters who are now in Azkaban. The only thing to do is spread the members of Slytherin House over the other three Houses and hope that they absorb the positive influences.”

Millicent looked like she had already decided not to participate in this conversation, and Blaise and Astoria were both contemplating this with minds open ajar. Daphne, however, looked furious. “You spout this wisdom as if you weren’t the worst perpetrator of all this behavior, _Malfoy._ May I remind you that you were the only student to become an actual Death Eater?”

“Nott,” Astoria corrected quietly. Daphne ignored her.

“I’m not saying I was any better than this. That’s exactly my point. I wasn’t!”

“Just because you got sucked into the whole Dark Lord mess doesn’t mean all Slytherins were sympathetic to the cause.”

“The Slytherins who go back to Hogwarts are going to be viciously bullied.”

“Is that so? Because I’ve been checking out the glares being thrown in our direction, and they’re only focused on _you.”_

“And what about when I’m not there to distract them and give them a way to focus their rage and grief? Look, I’ll be furious if they disband Slytherin. I’m just explaining why I understand the reason behind the decision.”

“Salazar Slytherin founded the school,” Blaise shot back. “They can’t just undo his work. He is the history of Hogwarts.”

“The other founders turned against him! He put a basilisk in the school!”

“Fortunately,” Blaise drawled, lip curling, “we have Harry Potter to deal with things like that, don’t we?” He took a long drink and said, “Your crush on Harry Potter is truly embarrassing, Draco. I feel secondhand embarrassment when I look at you.”

Draco froze then turned bright red. “I don’t have a crush on Potter.”

“Friend crush, then,” Blaise corrected, although he did not look like he believed this for a second.

“Okay, it’s not our decision what happens to Slytherin,” Millicent said loudly. “I don’t see how in-fighting will help anything.”

“Agreed,” echoed Astoria. “I find this whole conversation unnecessary.”

Draco slid down in his seat and drained half his glass. Everyone was too absorbed by the conversation to notice the door of the Three Broomsticks opening and a large group marching in. “You all asked for my opinion.”

“You would have given it anyway,” said Daphne dismissively.

“I am not the same person I was when I was fifteen!”

“No, you aren’t. Your fifteen-year-old self had some fucking self-respect. I can barely stand to look at you now, letting Potter force you to deal with hazardous potions supplies. It’s pathetic, and I assure you, he thinks so too.”

“I think it was great that Draco wanted to help,” Astoria said loudly, returning her hand to Draco’s. Draco wanted to cringe away at the touch but was too relieved that she didn’t believe Blaise and Daphne’s claims about his feelings for Potter to move. At least one person was on his side. “He has more reason to repent than you two do. It’s beautiful that he’s trying.”

“He’s just trying to justify to himself that he didn’t end up in Azkaban like his father,” Daphne said harshly. “I am in no mood to humor his self-obsession when Pansy and Tracey are too afraid to show their faces in public.”

“I am afraid to show my face in public!” Draco shot back loudly, voice wavering in a worrisome way. “I’m doing it because I have to do something!”

“You should be - afraid, I mean,” said a girl’s voice as she walked past, and Draco’s heart tightened as he saw Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet escorting Katie Bell across the floor like the Three Broomsticks was deeply traumatic for her, which, thanks to Draco, it probably was. He looked around the room wildly, and sure enough, the other Gryffindors and Luna Lovegood were cramming themselves into a long table in the back. All the heads in the Three Broomsticks were turning in an effort to catch a glimpse of Potter, who was very tightly surrounded by his entourage. 

The girls did not linger by their table for a response before joining the table of Gryffindors. Most people determinedly avoided looking at the Slytherins. Surprisingly, Ron said, “Wotcher, Malfoy,” as he squeezed past, and Luna Lovegood gave them all a wave. They were the only ones to acknowledge them.

“We should go,” Draco blurted out immediately. 

“No, we’re not doing that,” said Blaise firmly. “This is exactly what I meant about you being weak and spineless, Draco.”

“You hadn’t called me weak and spineless,” Draco said slowly.

“Well, I thought it,” Blaise snapped.

“I did too,” added Daphne.

Millicent banged her hands down at the table. “How about a refill? Anyone?”

Draco finished his drink and gushed, “Merlin, please.”

Blaise did the same, and Millicent took their cups grimly. “When I get back, you lot better be talking about something pleasant.”

“Draco will just be staring at Po - oh, look, he’s already doing it.”

“Something pleasant, Blaise,” Millicent commanded before stalking away. 

No one could think of anything pleasant to say. They sat in tense silence until Millicent returned with four more glasses of firewhiskey and one butterbeer, and then they all drank in tense silence until Astoria said, so loudly that several Hufflepuffs looked over at her curiously, “You know what I think Hogwarts needed?”

“What?” Blaise demanded, clearly annoyed. His glass was almost empty, and Draco’s was emptier still. Millicent eyed their glasses judgmentally before standing up to retrieve another round. Draco clumsily pulled out a handful of galleons, probably much more than was actually necessary for a few rounds of drinks, and shoved them into her hands. She gave him a wry smile and nodded before setting off to the bar. 

“We needed an external rival,” she answered when Millicent had disappeared. “The American schools all had rivals. The closest we got was the Triwizard Cup, and if you recall, there was much more House unity that year. Without another school to be our rival, people default to an internal rival: Slytherin.”

Daphne looked slightly impressed. “That’s actually a really good point, Astoria. People even liked Draco that year!”

Blaise smiled distantly, and Draco was glad to see it. “I still have that pin.”

“Me too,” Daphne said. “It’s frozen on Potter Stinks now though.”

“That was intentional,” Draco lied, and they both grinned at him with renewed warmth.

“I don’t think I got one,” Astoria said sadly. “Could you make me another? I mean - when you get your wand back?”

Blaise rolled his eyes and pulled out his wand. “Just use mine.”

Draco stared at it with huge eyes. He was desperate to take him up on the offer. The court ruling, after all, had just said that Draco couldn’t have his own wand. It didn’t say that he couldn’t use a wand. Draco thought that it was probably implied, but implications were not legally binding. Blaise held his wand out for about a minute before he said, “Draco.”

Millicent spilled part of her drink on herself when she returned to the table and hissed, “He can’t use that, Blaise!”

“He can, actually,” Blaise said calmly. “I read the transcript. Use the wand, Draco.”

“Don’t use the wand,” Millicent begged. “Draco, it’s six months. Don’t use the wand.”

“Neither of us have the trace on us,” Blaise argued. “No one will know!”

Millicent gestured around them. “There are fifty other Hogwarts students here who know that he’s not supposed to have a wand! If you want to do magic, then do wandless magic.”

Blaise snorted. “Draco’s not powerful enough to use wandless magic. Even I can’t do that.”

“I can, actually,” Draco said quietly. Sometimes. He’d already been without a wand for several months by the time the war ended. There had been nothing to do but attempt to learn how to channel his magic through other means, which meant Draco had spent months in a disorienting combination of meditation and suspended mental breakdown.

Blaise looked at him doubtfully. “Can you? Show us, then.”

Draco frowned and nodded to himself before focusing very intensely on a napkin in front of him and whispering, _“Wingardium Leviosa.”_ Nothing happened, and he repeated the incantation several times in a slightly firmer and more desperate voice each time. Nothing happened.

“We believe you, Draco,” said Millicent, who did not appear to believe him.

Astoria squeezed his hand. “I think wandless magic is supposed to be easier when it’s backed by strong emotions. It’s hard to do it on command.”

Blaise flipped his wand around and extended it to Draco. “Do it.”

“Why are you pushing the point, Blaise?” Daphne asked. “He doesn’t want to use the wand.”

“He wants to use the wand,” Blaise assured her. 

Draco did really want to use the wand, but it seemed like an objectively horrible idea. He was in public, drunk, and well-known to have had his wand confiscated. Millicent groaned loudly as Draco extended his hand to accept it, and Blaise smirked at him and passed it over. He shoved a coaster towards Draco and said, “There you go. Transfigure it, enchant it, and no one will ever know you used a wand.”

Daphne cocked her head to one side. “Why are you the way you are?”

Blaise waved her off. “Boredom, mostly.”

Draco looked down at the coaster and started to wave the wand when Astoria looked up and whispered, “Wait, Draco.”

Draco did not hesitate until the wand was plucked from his hand with a teasing “Yoink,” and Daphne muttered, “I told you so.”

Draco spun around to face the newest arrival to the Three Broomsticks, George Weasley. His skin was pallid, eyes dead and haunted, but he put on a good show of forcing a smile as he twirled the wand around. Draco paused for a moment before he remembered why, exactly, George Weasley looked like he was doing so badly, and any inclination Draco had to fight back faded immediately.

“This wouldn’t be contraband you have here, right, Malfoy?”

Blaise stood up and extended his hand. Draco considered himself to be tall, but both Blaise and George Weasley were so far out of his league. He was really glad that Blaise was the one to stand up to him, literally. “It’s mine, Weasley. Give it back.”

“I don’t think I will,” he said simply. “The court took his wand away for a reason.”

“Relax, Weasley,” said Daphne faux-pleasantly. “He wasn’t up to anything serious.”

“We’re in the Three-bloody-Broomsticks,” added Millicent. “If we wanted to go off and do Dark Magic, would we really do it here? Be realistic.”

He pretended to think. “Do I think that Draco Malfoy would attempt Dark Magic in the Three Broomsticks? Yeah, that sounds very unrealistic, doesn’t it?”

Millicent heaved a sigh and crossed her arms, unwilling to fight Draco’s battles anymore, not that she tried very hard and ultimately led Weasley to his ideal conclusion. Daphne was trying very hard to look in any direction other than the three of them, and Astoria seemed to be chugging her entire butterbeer without pausing for a breath, going cross-eyed as she focused on the bottle.

Only Blaise looked openly annoyed. “I don’t really give a fuck what you think about Malfoy, Weasley. It’s not his bloody wand.” He took a step closer. “So unless you have something you’d like to say to me personally?”

Weasley faltered. It was Blaise’s greatest strength that, although a significant portion of him was undeniably a narcissistic blood supremacist, he alone had been smart enough never to do anything openly provocative during his seven years at Hogwarts. His mother, in some way, had really raised him right. 

“You shouldn’t go around sharing wands,” Weasley snarled. “He’s lucky he’ll get his back at all.”

Blaise nodded in mock agreement. “Pass that message onto Potter for me, would you? About sharing wands?” He stretched his hand out further. “My wand, now, please.”

Weasley did not hand over the wand, and Blaise’s calm expression was starting to falter. “That was a very different situation.”

“I suppose it was. Me sharing my wand didn’t directly lead to the end of the war.”

“That’s an oversimplification,” Lee Jordan cut in as he joined George. “George, mate. It wasn’t Zabini’s fault. He’s barely even a person.”

“That’s fair,” Blaise conceded, and Daphne actually snorted.

“No, but it was his fault,” George muttered, gesturing to Draco with Blaise’s wand.

Draco put up his best, most condescending self-defenses and stood up to join Blaise. “Go on, then. Let’s hear how I’m to blame for every Death Eater in the bloody country.” He paused and added, “How is it my fault that your brother is dead, Weasley?”

George glowered at him, and Lee Jordan laid a hand on his arm. “I think that what _we_ are trying to say,” he translated, emphasizing his solidarity with George, “is that if you hadn’t gotten Death Eaters into Hogwarts, then Voldemort wouldn’t have released Lucius from Azkaban as a reward, and Rookwood wouldn’t have escaped with him. Is that what we’re saying?”

“Oh, come on,” whispered Millicent to Daphne. “That’s a huge stretch.”

“You think Voldemort let out twelve Death Eaters because he was proud of _me?”_ Draco asked disbelievingly, although his heart was thumping as he realized that, in the most technical sense possible, the logic tracked. It was, as Jordan had said moments ago, an oversimplification, but all the forced connections were true. 

Blaise thumped Draco on the back supportively. His behavior had changed somewhat the moment that Lee Jordan had entered the conversation, and Draco couldn’t quite figure out why. “They hated Draco, mate. Hated Lucius too by the end. Voldemort just wanted his followers back.”

Daphne looked at George and said, “We’re very sorry for your loss.”

Millicent sighed and finished her drink. “We’ll clear out. We just need the wand back first.”

George was nodding like he’d gone a little bit insane in the past month, which Draco thought was very valid. Privately, he considered six out of seven siblings to be a very good yield, but it was his twin. Draco didn’t have any siblings to use as a comparison. He stared at Blaise and held the wand in both hands like he was about to snap it, and Draco shouted, _“Expelliarmus.”_

“Bloody hell,” said Zabini as the wand flew out of George’s hand and towards the door. “You really can do wandless magic. I thought you were ly-”

Daphne stood up and shoved the two of them forward. “Go,” she hissed, forcing them through the crowd. “Don’t look back, don’t run, just walk calmly to the door.”

Draco heard Millicent dump all the galleons he had given her on the table and said, in a strained voice, “Round on us, then,” before pulling Astoria along with her. 

Blaise scooped up his wand by the door and hissed, “Zabini Estate,” to the others before apparating Draco out of Hogsmeade with a loud _CRACK._

Draco stumbled and almost fell over when his feet hit the ground outside of Blaise’s house. He felt a strange breeze on the top of his head and took a confused second before appreciating the fact that Blaise had just apparated him while drunk and highly flustered. He tested out his use of his arms and legs. Draco was fortunate enough to have all of his limbs. 

Blaise staggered and spat on the ground before glancing over at Draco. His mouth opened and shut a few times. He looked rather guilty, then a dazzling smile lit up his face. Draco gave him a perplexed look, and Blaise stared for a moment more before doubling over in raucous laughter.

There were two more loud pops, and Millicent and Daphne (who had sidealonged Astoria) joined them outside. It looked like no one got splinched, and Draco had a great deal of respect for his friends (if he could, in fact, call them that). Millicent brushed herself off and began, “Draco, I must say, I really underestimated your ability to-” She looked up at him and froze. A similar smile to Blaise’s spread across her face.

Draco was beginning to feel very nervous. “What are you two laughing at?”

Daphne took a long look at him and joined them in their hysterical, wheezy laughter, and Astoria gave him a very pitying look. “I didn’t realize you could splinch hair.”

“Splinch - you can splinch - YOU SPLINCHED MY HAIR?” Draco shouted, running his hand back and forth over his head. There was now only a few random tufts of hair on his otherwise bald head. Blaise was sinking to the ground, pushing himself up with his hands as he gasped for breath. 

“Really, Draco, in the grand scheme of things, it’s the best part of the body to splinch,” Millicent said soothingly. 

“He can just do a hair-regrowing spell,” Blaise wheezed, setting himself up for his own joke. He rolled over onto his back and gasped, “Oh, wait! He can’t do a hair-regrowing spell!”

Draco was on top of him in an instant, trying to wrestle the wand out of his hand. Blaise threw it to Daphne, who tore off towards the house. Draco scrambled up and sprinted after her, almost grabbing the wand from her hand before she shouted _“PROTEGO!”_ and threw him off her. 

“There’s a potion for that,” Millicent advised, holding out her own wand to block Draco.

“Yeah, Potions Squib,” jeered Daphne.

Blaise practically roared, not even really laughing exactly. “Potions Squib!” He pushed himself up to his knees and screamed wordlessly once more, and Draco took a few steps away from him.

“You could always wear a hat,” Astoria suggested helpfully.

Draco would rather die.

Blaise stood up and jogged off towards his house to retrieve his wand. Only Astoria lingered behind for Draco. She smiled at him weakly and said, “It really is better than losing a limb.”

“Is it?” Draco asked darkly, stroking his tufts of hair self-consciously. 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” she said, smiling wider. “You’ll be back to normal in a few weeks.”

“Do I look like a baby?” Draco asked miserably. “I do, don’t I?”

“Yes, somewhat,” she admitted. “A very tall, skinny baby.”

Draco practically shook with rage, and she asked, “Well, what did you expect him to do? He was trying to help.”

“The wand was his idea! Now he won’t let me use it to fix my deformity?”

“You look fine,” she assured him. “Come inside. People could see how hideous you are.”

Draco’s shoulders slumped as he walked up the path with her. She kept shooting him looks and appeared to be holding back laughter, but it didn’t seem as malicious as the other three’s. Now that Draco had gotten some air, he was beginning to notice that Astoria had been acting really strangely all night. She’d always shown a fair amount of admiration for him when she was younger, somewhat like his equivalent of a Ginny Weasley, but now she had grown up and was behaving as if she genuinely liked him. 

It made no sense. No one liked Draco. Blaise, Millicent, and Daphne had proven themselves to be surprisingly good friends even if the majority of their conversation had been rather tense and biting. Astoria looked like she was actually prepared to be linked with a Death Eater publicly, and honestly, Draco was willing to use anyone as a shield from his massive amount of public hatred at the moment.


	3. The Malfoy Reconstruction (November 1998)

It was strange that, after only one day spent together as anything resembling friends, Draco would miss his fellow Slytherins so acutely that he felt off-kilter for several days after their reunion at the Hogwarts reconstruction. He had even considered writing to Blaise but a combination of insecurity and pessimism convinced him that, if Blaise really wanted to hear from Draco, then he would reach out first. And he never did, so that settled that.

The past year had given Draco a great deal of experience in hiding in his room, quietly studying magic, and wishing he didn’t exist. He had even had experience in practicing wandless magic in the weeks after Potter had taken his wand and had almost come to prefer wandless magic. There was a great deal of power to be found in it. It was also, in Draco’s world, considered more similar to a temper tantrum than a display of might. Draco, who was quite well-versed in both temper tantrums and forcing his raging emotions to submit to external pressures, had discovered that he was uniquely suited to wandless magic. It didn’t hurt that he adored being able to excel at something useful that few other people could do.

When the Dark Lord had first taken over Malfoy Manor, Draco had been attempting to master the Patronus. He never succeeded. Few Death Eaters could cast a corporeal Patronus, but Draco hadn’t even been able to conjure an ephemeral shield. He could forgive himself many of his failures, but when his failures aligned perfectly with Potter’s strengths, he really did feel as pathetic as everyone else claimed he was. He tried to rationalize to himself that all wizards had fairly predictable affinities to different sorts of magic. Potter, who was all strength and warmth and resistance, had been able to throw off the Imperius and produce a corporeal Patronus with very little practice. Draco, a walking nervous breakdown with few desires other than protecting himself, excelled at wandless magic and Occlumency. Somehow, that explanation made him feel worse.

He felt a certain freedom when Potter escaped with his wand, as if he’d needed permission from some external authority to tell him that it was okay to give up on the Patronus Charm. Without a wand, Draco was free to explore the magic that was inside him. All wizards had the ability to do wandless magic. Children did it all the time before they learned to control it, but somehow that control came at the price of all access to the raw primal magic itself. A wizard trained with a wand could often not tap into their magic without a wand even under dire circumstances.

It had been difficult when he first tried to harness it intentionally after the war. When the Dark Lord had resided in Malfoy Manor, his emotions had been constantly elevated. It took only a tiny amount of that raw energy to light a candle or levitate a book. After the war, he was so drained of all emotion that he could barely get out of bed much less do wandless magic. The apathy had subsided somewhat in the wake of the Hogwarts reconstruction, but he still struggled to perform any magic since that wandless disarming spell in The Three Broomsticks.

His first success came in the middle of October, on a day not coincidentally overlapping with the announcement of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley’s engagement in the Prophet. The article featured a photo of the two of them looking beautiful, happy, and in love at what the caption claimed was Ginny’s signing party for the Holyhead Harpies. Draco looked at the photo for a long time, gripping the paper tightly in a shaking hand, then, either unintentionally or unconsciously willed, the paper burst into flames and fell to the floor in a neat pile of ash.

He stared down at the pile of ash in shock before beginning, very slowly, to examine his room. So much of this house reminded him of Voldemort’s occupation of Malfoy Manor. The areas that hadn’t been polluted by the Dark Lord were haunted by the ghost of his father or the literal ghosts of the people who had died under extreme torture in his attic. The whole house had been contaminated, and Draco wanted every single memory inside its walls to be gone. He pointed a trembling hand at his wardrobe and whispered, _“Reducto.”_ The dresser exploded.

 _“Engorgio.”_ His pillow and mattress grew until the seams burst open.

 _“Flipendo.”_ His bookshelf toppled over.

 _“Incendio.”_ The books burst into flame.

 _“Exaero.”_ The flames extinguished as suddenly as they came, leaving behind charred but mostly readable remains.

He caught sight of himself in the mirror - trembling, sheet white, close to hyperventilation, wild eyes, dried tear stains down his cheeks - and shouted, _“Confringo.”_ The mirror burst into tiny, jagged shards. A distant stinging sensation warned him that he might have been cut by some of the glass. He ignored it and continued his destruction of all furniture, fuelled by all his recent memories of the Manor - Voldemort’s voice, his father’s inability to meet his eyes, the screams of Muggles and Mudbloods, Potter’s escape. 

He almost kept going when the door to his room flew open, and his mother shouted, “Draco, what are you doing?”

His breathing had been reduced to shallow gasps. It slowly returned to something resembling normal as Narcissa examined the devastated bedroom in horror. His muscles relaxed, and he gave her a weak smile and announced, with a forced cheerfulness that appeared to terrify her even more than his formerly wrecked expression, “I think I’ve figured out wandless magic!”

His mother had wanted him to go on a potions regimen after that, but Draco adamantly refused. He did not, of course, admit that he’d adamantly refused. He accepted all the potions and promptly dumped them down the drain. He had just unlocked the secret to wandless magic and had, contrary to what she thought, a great deal of control over it already. He wasn’t going to dull everything down just because he happened to have destroyed his childhood bedroom. He just had to be more careful to restrain himself when she might catch him.

Her less-than-enthusiastic reaction had made him rather furious. He was the most powerful he’d ever been his entire life. Maybe when he couldn’t get out of bed for two straight weeks she should have been worried, but now Draco was clearly flourishing. If not proud, she should at least be supportive. What else was he going to do with these six months? And, honestly, what was he going to do after these six months were up? It wasn’t like he’d ever be able to reintegrate in society. He considered multiple times reaching out to the Slytherin expats but figured, once again, that if anyone wanted to hear from him, they would reach out first. The thought made him feel all hollowed out inside, but he could channel it into even more vicious explosions. Negative emotions were no longer a waste of his time and energy, which was fortunate because they had made up most if not all of his emotions since he’d received the Mark at age sixteen.

She did seem quite genuinely terrified for him at times, which eventually guilted Draco enough to focus more on the control aspect of wandless magic than the raw power underlying it. He spent hours a day on meditation. He exhausted all the books in his room and his father’s previously forbidden study before beginning to venture into the memories preserved in his father’s Pensieve, sifting through them for any involving Voldemort and observing his every action with keen interest. It was liberating to be so removed from his influence that he could really absorb the extent of his power, the reasons that so many people argued that he was the greatest dark wizard of all time.

By the end of November, Draco had moved on from piffling little charms. He set a much worthier goal for himself and had finally (FINALLY) achieved it when his mother knocked on the door to the guest bedroom in which he resided and interrupted him.

He crashed down a few inches onto the mattress and scrambled to his feet to greet her. “I said not to interrupt me in here!”

She regarded him mistrustfully then said, “You have a guest.”

“Who?” 

“Astoria Greengrass, darling. Make yourself presentable and join us downstairs.”

“Is Blaise with her?” Draco asked eagerly.

“Astoria Greengrass. Perhaps use some of that wandless magic you’re so fond of to wash your hair first. You look -” She hesitated. Her eyes flicked over to the remains of the mirror that Draco had destroyed weeks ago. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

“Don’t blame me,” the broken mirror rasped. “I tried to warn him.”

His mother departed without another word, and Draco pointed at the shards and whispered, _“Reducto,”_ before giving some unenthusiastic attention to his hair and slouching downstairs.

Astoria was sitting at the kitchen table with his mother. She, of course, looked as perfect as always. His thoughts drifted to how perfect Blaise must look, and he grimaced. Her eyes widened the moment she saw him, then she smiled in disbelief and stood up to greet him. She gave him a tight hug and murmured, “You really look terrible, Draco.”

“You don’t.”

She pulled back and smiled again. “Yes, I’m aware. Shall we go for a walk?”

“What - outside?”

His mother made a disapproving noise in the back of her throat and stood up. Astoria said, “Thank you for everything, Narcissa,” and watched her go before turning back to Draco. “Yes, in the Outside World. The pallor of your skin would suggest you’ve never heard of it.”

“This is Wiltshire.”

“That doesn’t excuse whatever’s going on here. Come on. You need to leave this house. We’ll stay on the grounds.”

“But why?” Draco whined, and Astoria let out a shrill laugh that didn’t feel as mocking as it certainly was.

*

It was a cold, misting-on-the-brink-of-drizzling afternoon. Draco, fully disconnected from weather patterns and therefore severely underdressed, simply did not see the point in being outside. Astoria placed a few warming charms on his clothes, which he accepted gratefully before remembering, “The trace?”

“Birthday last week. I’m on the older side for my year. Thank you for your kind owl by the way.”

“The idea that I would remember your birthday is patently absurd.”

Astoria laughed boisterously. He might have considered it unattractive if it didn’t make him feel so good about himself. “Fair enough, Draco.”

“It’s not as if you know mine.”

“June 5th. You always made a very, very big deal out of it in the common room.”

“I’ll have you know that the sash and crown were Pansy’s ideas.”

“What about transfiguring a throne and vanishing all the other furniture so everyone else had to sit on the floor?”

“... Also Pansy’s idea. All of it was Pansy’s idea.”

“Birthday brat,” Astoria teased. She knocked her shoulder against his. If the insult or shoulder bump were intended to hurt him, it misfired tremendously. Draco’s face hurt from the strain of his first real smile in ages. “So what’s been going on with you? We haven’t heard from you in months. You looked as if you haven’t showered in about as long.”

Draco glanced around in a way that probably made him look like a paranoid maniac and whispered, “Look at this.” Astoria leaned in slightly, and he pointed at a rock and said, _“Wingardium leviosa.”_

It levitated into the air. He said, _“Expulso,”_ and Astoria gasped as it blew up in a cloud of dust and tiny fragments.

“Wow,” she murmured distantly. “Wow, okay, yeah. That’s very - wow, Draco.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing.” He felt distinctly proud of himself. He wished his mother had shown this amazement, but he could imagine that a controlled display of power was much easier to appreciate than a tantrum-driven destruction of all his possessions.

“Color me impressed. Still doesn’t explain the total lack of self care or social engagement.”

“I think my progress speaks for itself. You could have reached out, you know.”

“We were taking some time to - how did Blaise put it? - collect our thoughts.”

“And they are now adequately collected?”

She surveyed him with that quietly thoughtful expression that he realized he’d missed. “Yes, I believe so. I’m a little, well - I’m a bit concerned now. About you. My mother, she got into these moods too.”

Draco bristled. He barely suppressed a sneer. “What moods? You’ve been talking to me for five minutes. How would you possibly know if I’m in moods?”

Astoria frowned. “I suppose I wouldn’t.”

He was growing increasingly furious. “And it really wouldn’t involve you anyway, _Astoria._ And everyone has moods! They’re not a thing that some people have and others don’t!”

She wrinkled her nose. “Okay, Draco, fine. I’m not going to belabour the point. Blaise might, though. If you seem too volatile.”

He looked around wildly. “Where is Blaise?”

“The Zabini Estate,” she reported, unperturbed by his frantic search. “Where we’re due to be in a matter of minutes.”

“You said I wouldn’t have to leave the grounds,” Draco said accusingly.

“I wanted to ease you into the idea.” She was unrepentant. Moods. How dare she. “We can Floo.”

*

Blaise did not appear as forgiving of Draco’s appearance when he tumbled out of the fireplace. With clear disgust, he greeted, “Draco. What has happened to you?”

Draco dusted himself off and pointedly avoided eye contact while Astoria crossed the room to whisper something to Blaise. His face relaxed immediately, like Draco was pitiful rather than repulsive, and he asked, loudly enough for Draco to hear, “And is he on potions for it?”

“Not according to his mother,” Astoria informed him. “He’s been pretending to take them and disposing of them somewhere.”

Draco spread his arms out wide. “I hate when you talk about me like I’m not here.”

Millicent wiggled her fingers. “Hello, Draco. Let’s have a side conversation while they discuss your lack of hygiene.”

“Bugger off, Millie.”

“I’ve missed you too, darling,” she drawled.

“Don’t distract me. I want to know what they’re talking about.”

Blaise stood up to stand in front of Draco and examine him up close. “We’re discussing the fact that you’re clearly a nervous wreck, Draco, and it’s as simple a solution as a potion a day, so why is this a problem?”

“You seem to think your bluntness is a strength.”

“It is. Your father’s gone, and you need someone to tell you what to do. I am telling you to get yourself together so we can move on with your life.”

Did he need someone to tell him what to do? Draco hadn’t thought of it like that. His mother would beg him to make changes, but his father had always pointed him in the exact direction he wanted Draco to go. The idea of having someone to direct his life once again made him feel newly secure and protected, suggesting that Blaise was right. Draco could not manage his own life. No one else was volunteering. He would be very pleased to have Blaise’s life. He just needed a firm hand. Even he could recognize that he was falling apart without one.

Draco nodded and whispered, “Okay.”

Astoria reached out to hand Draco a familiar phial that she must have accepted from his mother. Draco scowled at it and clenched it in his fist. “I can’t do wandless magic when I take it.”

“Everything comes at a price,” Blaise said, sounding genuinely sympathetic. “The beauty of potions is that, if you don’t like it, you can stop taking it and go back to the way you are now. If that is preferable.” He seemed to think anything was preferable to this state.

Draco sighed and uncorked the bottle. The moment he threw it back, a huge relief crashed over him. He felt exhausted and realized he hadn’t slept in days. He felt grimy and greasy and couldn’t remember the last time he showered. He was absolutely starving; he’d barely eaten in weeks and could feel his bones protruding as his fingers skirted his ribs. His thoughts were slow but clear, and background noises became more pronounced. He hadn’t heard birds in months. He shuddered and whispered, “Alright. You make some good points.”

Millicent was also on her feet, peering over Blaise’s shoulder, and said, “Wow, you can really see the change in his eyes, can’t you? Amazing.”

Draco sniffed and wrinkled his nose. “Am I that smell?”

“Yes,” Blaise confirmed. He pointed his wand at Draco and hit him with wordless cleaning and freshening charms.

“Can I have,” Draco mumbled. “Can I have some tea and… and a sandwich? And maybe some biscuits. And Pepper-Up. And a very, very strong mint.” He frowned. “And some cold water.” He blinked a few times. “And maybe a potion to lubricate my eyes. And a comb. And hair gel?”

“Hair gel,” Daphne repeated. Draco hadn’t even noticed her but was so unsurprised by her presence that he didn’t bother acknowledging her. He did run a hand through his limp, tangled hair in response.

“There he is!” Blaise exclaimed. “Draco Malfoy! Making demands he has no place making from his host. I’ll get you some tea and something to eat.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Astoria assured them.

Draco sank down onto a chair as thoughts and memories began to piece together in his head. He thought about his pride at destroying his childhood bedroom with wandless magic and his shame when his father had scolded him as a child after he’d ignited every portrait in the drawing room during one of his frequent, vicious tantrums. He thought about that afternoon, levitating over his bed and heart hammering with excitement as he realized that he was the only living wizard who could fly without a broom, not even considering that Lord Voldemort was cruel, insane, and not at all a person to be emulated. Of course, Draco could never be like Lord Voldemort. He had grown up spoiled, coddled, and ruled by his intense and fleeting emotions. He could have been something else though. He had flown, and for some reason, that now felt incredibly ominous. Voldemort’s apathy had made him cruel and heartless, but Draco wasn’t sure that uncontrollable, rapidly-changing emotions driven by pure self-interest were much better. 

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and said, “Thank you for inviting me over.”

Blaise let out a loud, bark-like laugh. “It was no trouble at all. We’ve been meaning to talk to you for some time.”

“You have my address. It’s the name of my house.”

“Malfoy Manor,” Astoria added helpfully as she returned with a comb. “Add ‘Wiltshire’ if the bird is especially stupid. Here, Draco. I’ve brought the most important things. Open your mouth.”

She pushed the comb into his hand, and he opened his mouth obediently. She pointed her wand at his face, which Draco never would have allowed ordinarily, and whispered a freshening charm like a sixth year pretending they could do nonverbal spells. Draco sucked in through his teeth unpleasantly and muttered, “Thank you.”

“A House-elf will be up with tea shortly.”

“Thank you,” Draco said with increased enthusiasm. “I really thought you were saying my hair and breath were the most important things.”

“They are.”

Draco scowled and started work on his hair, wincing as he immediately found a tangle that had been festering for weeks. He looked up and noticed Blaise was watching him with a half-disgusted, half-pitying expression. Draco frowned at him and tugged more harshly on a knot. His fellow Slytherins sat in silence and waited until his hair hung lifeless and greasy but tangle-free. Blaise’s lip was curled, and Daphne was full-on sneering at him, but Millicent and Astoria both seemed close to good-humored laughter. 

There was a long silence in which a young, well-groomed House-elf served tea and a full plate of sandwiches that, after surveying his audience, Draco pulled towards him and started devouring. The quiet was interrupted by Daphne clearing her throat. Draco glanced up at her, still chewing, and Daphne wrinkled her nose. “I remember when manners and self care were your two biggest strengths.”

Draco swallowed thickly. “I’m still very wealthy.”

“Perfect segue!” Blaise interjected, cutting easily through the tension. “I really couldn’t watch that for a moment longer.”

Millicent leaned forward and smirked at him. “I could watch Draco Malfoy inhale a whole plate of sandwiches without pausing to breathe all day.”

“Really?” Astoria asked politely. “How big is the plate of sandwiches such that it would take him that long?”

“No one is forcing you all to stare at me,” Draco pointed out. He glared at Blaise and took another large bite of a sandwich. Sighing, Blaise stood up and pulled the plate away from him. Draco opened his mouth to show a half-chewed bite. “I’m going to save it in my cheeks.”

Millicent burst out laughing, and Astoria and Draco (spewing bits of food everywhere) followed soon after. Daphne leaned over to Blaise and whispered, “Merlin, he’s actually gone insane.”

“I can work with it,” he murmured back to her. 

Draco glared at the two of them immediately. “Alright, so I was not invited here for sandwiches and pleasantries. What’s going on?”

Blaise gave him a benign smile that struck Draco as neither forced nor particularly genuine. “Have you been following the news, Draco?”

“Not since October,” Draco admitted. No one commented on what was all over the headlines in October. “Why? How’s the reconstruction going?”

“Slowly, now that alumni have begun their jobs and students are studying independently. They estimate a few more years.”

“Years?” Draco was flabbergasted. “How long can it take?” 

Daphne scoffed. “It’s just a gigantic, ancient, and highly magical castle. How long could it possibly take to repair after a devastating battle?”

“I suppose that’s good though,” Draco mused. “The Slytherin reputation won’t be as fresh for the returning students.”

“It is looking highly unlikely that there will be a Slytherin House when students return,” Blaise said. “Right now, the practical issues of rebuilding the castle and restoring its magic are more important than the theoretical issues of the Houses, but I do not anticipate a Slytherin in the future of Hogwarts.”

“Can they do that?” Draco demanded. “It’s really that simple?”

“It might be. We have no way of knowing for sure. The Hogwarts Board of Directors is devoid of Slytherins now that your father is out of the picture.”

“You can’t be suggesting I could take over for him.” Draco frowned. “No one would let me. One of you do it.”

“I’m trying,” Blaise told him seriously. “You’re not the only family whose reputation has taken a hit. People never particularly liked my mother, and I was _technically_ in charge of the Hogwarts Disciplinary Committee under the Carrows. And not even the Zabinis have the kind of gold it would take to buy myself into a room with a Ministry official.”

“‘Not even the Zabinis’,” Draco quoted scornfully. He felt bad about it immediately, but the only advantage that Draco and his friends had on Zabini’s group was that they were incomparably wealthier. Blaise was comfortable enough, but the Bulstrodes were a new family (which meant there was at least one Muggle somewhere in their family tree) and solidly working class and the Greengrasses were well-known to have gone broke generations ago. They had their family estate and the illusion of wealth, but those were the only things distinguishing them from the Weasleys. The rumor was that they had incurred the wrath of nasty hag years ago who had drained them of their resources and left a curse on the female line. Draco personally assumed that Truvius Greengrass had a gambling problem and wanted a better story to explain his failures.

Blaise took a deep breath. “You see where I’m going then.”

“My mother has been donating to all the charities that helped my father come back after the First War. It’s not helping.”

“It’s going to take more than a donation to restore your family name, Draco,” Blaise explained patiently. “Plenty of people have money. Zacharias Smith is the third wealthiest student in our year, and he’s also struggling to buy his way back into Potter’s good graces.”

Draco couldn’t fight back the sly smile that always spread across his face when he remembered that most of the school hated Zacharias Smith as much as they hated Draco. He really hadn’t done much to deserve it besides be a prat but apparently had made a complete arse out of himself during the battle. Blaise snapped his fingers a few times to jolt Draco out of his pleased reverie. “You need to be useful yourself, as Draco Malfoy. It is not enough to let your gold speak for yourself.”

Draco was puzzled. “I’m shocked that I’m the one telling you this, but I think you should give up on the Malfoys, Blaise. We’re done. I resign myself to a life of comfortable, affluent leisure and hermitude.”

“How terrible,” Astoria said dryly.

“I am not going to give up on the Malfoys,” Blaise snapped. “As long as your family is on the map, you will always be the first thing people think of when they think of Slytherin.” 

“Surely it’s Voldemort,” Draco reasoned. “The Heir Of.”

Blaise ignored him. “You could have been fully condemned like the Notts or the Goyles. You could have fled the country like the Parkinsons, but you’re here. That is enough for people to remember you. You will never be able to stop existing, and your existence affects all of us. Additionally, you have seemingly endless amounts of gold. Like it or not, Draco, you are the person we need to rebuild our reputation around.”

“How terrible,” Draco mimicked, shooting a glare in Astoria’s direction. She smirked like she enjoyed the recognition.

“Yes, it rather is, isn’t it?”

“And you have a proposal, I assume? This must be why you’ve waited months to reach out.”

“It is. I assume, Draco, that you’re familiar with the idea of reparations?”

“What, in general or in relation to the Death Eaters? Either way, yes, entirely.”

“Then why specify?” Millicent asked.

“They’re incredibly unpopular,” Draco informed Blaise. “The reparations included in The Treaty of Versailles are considered to be the framework with which Grindewald incited World War II in the Muggle Soviet Union by Polyjuicing as a man known as Hitler Skitler in order to turn Muggles against each other and make them easier to enslave by wizards.” He made a triangle with his hands. “For The Greater Good.”

“Feel good about that answer, Draco?” Daphne asked scathingly.

Millicent looked uncharacteristically serious. “You really needed to pay more attention in Muggle Studies, mate.”

“It’s Muggle Studies. I think I absorbed plenty.”

Astoria reached out to put a hand on his arm. “Don’t try to talk about the war in front of anyone other than us, okay, Draco?”

“He started out so strong,” Blaise said. He looked disappointed, and Draco felt oddly guilty. What had he gotten wrong? He ran what he’d said through in his head and was pretty sure he’d gotten all his facts right. “But you are right about the reparations. And that is… that’s what matters. Merlin, Draco. Okay. Where was I?”

“The reparations that led to the rise of Hitler Skitler in the Soviet Union,” Daphne supplied helpfully.

“Don’t humor him, Daphne,” Blaise muttered. “Yes, it has made the idea of reparations very unpopular, not because people don’t want the losers-slash-enemies to pay for damages. That concept is, of course, very popular. Who wouldn’t like that? People are just understandably wary of ill will festering in those punished - in this case, the Death Eaters.”

Draco nodded. “You want me very publicly to proclaim DEATH EATERS LOVE GIVING UP THEIR FAMILY FORTUNES TO PAY YOU BLOOD TRAITORS BACK so that I can become the new scapegoat for reparations.”

Blaise grinned. It struck Draco as vaguely threatening, and his body reacted to it in many contradictory and confusing ways. “I would have said poster child, but yes, essentially.”

Draco slumped down in his chair. No one spoke as he thought. Finally, he admitted, “I didn’t much fancy affluent hermitude. And the Lestranges had… too much money. We really didn’t expect their families to get so wiped off the map that the money reached us. Trickle-down in action, I suppose. It can all - at least half of it can go to reparations.” 

“Yes, between the Blacks, Lestranges, and Malfoys, your ancestors controlled every leg of the triangle trade - and no, Draco, please don’t tell me that you don’t know what that is.”

Millicent was looking at him in utter shock. “How did you manage to make a Reaganomics joke when you don’t even know about World War II or the triangle trade?”

“Of course I know what the triangular trade is,” Draco said, affronted. Since the deaths of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, Draco was officially the first wizard with over a billion galleons to his name. How could he not know where it came from? 

“First rule of the Malfoys: if it relates to money, they’ll know about it,” Daphne told Millicent. “If it doesn’t, Skitler.”

Draco frowned at the group. “Why do you all know about Reaganomics? You do know it wouldn’t help you if you’re _poor,_ right?”

Blaise stood up and clapped his hands. “Alright. I’ve had my fill of Draco Malfoy for the afternoon. Glad to see you’re back to your normal insufferable self. I take that as a good sign. I’ll set up some interviews and owl you with the details, shall I?”

*

Draco had never fancied being a Ministry man, philanthropist, or economist. His lack of motivation to perform any of the jobs he was groomed for combined with his hatred of spending all day idly in the Manor raised the question: What did Draco actually want to do with his life? Had he had dreams at one point that he’d forgotten? He had loved helping Severus with his experiments in his home laboratory when he’d been younger until he arrived at Hogwarts and determined that the thankless life of an academic was decidedly not for him, as his father had been telling him for three years previously.

That said, the feeling of pure, undiluted success that Draco experienced on the first day that he was invited into a meeting at the Ministry was enough to make him forget that this had never actually been the goal. He had been facing a lifetime of lackadaisical, self-imposed house arrest, but, after only two months, a handful of interviews, and a few hundred thousand galleons, he had been invited into the Ministry with the Council of Magical Law. The sheer victory made an otherwise dull and inconsequential meeting deeply exciting. Another factor that made the meeting exciting was that he had to pass the Aurors office to get to the meeting, but he hadn’t run into Potter or any of the other Dumbledore’s Army recruits, which made him feel oddly bereft and antsy for a good portion of the meeting.

The goal of the meetings was, as Blaise had explained to him multiple times, first and foremost that Draco had to show sincere contrition on behalf of the entire Slytherin (and Voldemort-sympathizer) community and a desire to help (fund) the reconstruction efforts. As Draco had nothing to offer other than overwhelming regret and spare galleons, this was actually very easy.

Blaise’s secondary goal was to get Draco in the room with Percy Weasley, who was in charge of the Hogwarts reconstruction efforts, but that was proving decidedly difficult even though Draco (with the Black-Lestrange fortune) was funding a good bit of it. Harry Potter had apparently suggested that they use the gems from the House point hourglasses to fund the reconstruction and simply replace the hourglasses with a ticker. The wizard who recounted this story to Draco seemed to find it endlessly amusing. Draco himself found it exceedingly rational. 

He didn’t so much as see any of the Wizarding World’s precious Gryffindor heroes for his first several meetings at the Ministry. The Auror trainees were likely offsite; Draco had heard through the grapevine that Ron had dropped out to work with his brother George at his shop in Diagon Alley. He was awaiting the news that Harry Potter too had realized he didn’t want to spend his entire life obsessing over the next dark wizard, but all information related to Harry Potter suggested that he was excelling and would be Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in five years, which was not surprising given that most senior members of the DMLE were dead and Harry Potter was a war hero. Robards, the current Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, clearly wanted to retire and was really just keeping the seat warm until Potter had all the official credentials needed for the job.

The first and only member of Potter’s entourage that he ran into organically was Hermione Granger. Draco was in a wonderful mood, having finally been returned his wand (with no questions asked). Hermione was not in a wonderful mood. She had been rushing out of the lifts with an armful of dusty, black, coverless books that Draco suspected had come from the Department of Mysteries when Draco collided with her and knocked them out of her arms.

She yelped and dropped down to start gathering the books, and Draco took a second to appreciate that Hermione looked exhausted, unkempt, and underfed. O, how the tables had turned! Draco knelt down next to her, ostensibly to help collect books but truly to gauge what important information they might contain. None of the books had fallen open, and he wasn’t able to knock one open with an “accidental” brush of his fingers. They were certainly from the Department of Mysteries.

“Oh, Malf - Draco, hello,” Hermione said hurriedly, taking the proffered books. “Glad to see you’re doing well! Bye, then! Keep at it!”

“Granger?” he asked uncertainly as she brushed past him. “Everything’s alright with you?”

“They are - yes. Everything.” She paused and scrutinized him, fingers still drumming against the spines of the books of their own accord. “The Room of Requirement went out, by the way. It worked. You never reached out to ask.”

Why did everyone always act like it was Draco’s job to reach out? Didn’t they realize that they didn’t want to hear from him? “I’ve been preoccupied.”

She brightened up. “Oh, yes, I’ve heard all about it - scholarships and collective investment funds for Muggleborns, stipends for families who lost one or both of their primary providers during the war, the majority of the Hogwarts reconstruction.” She beamed at him. “Blaise is doing a really great job!”

“Yes, I personally thought we should just take all the diamonds out of the Hufflepuff hourglass.”

She actually laughed. Draco would never get over the shock of how incredible it felt to have someone enjoy speaking to him. “It really was a good suggestion. Those old stuffy wizards acted like it was completely preposterous. Anyway, thank you for reminding me. I’ve been meaning to owl Blaise.”

“You could speak to me directly you know?”

“He’s much easier to talk to,” Hermione said brutally. She smiled to soften her words immediately after, and Draco found himself unwounded. “I have actually - well, since you did actually prove your point. I did consider reaching out to you directly.”

“About the Room of Requirement?”

She nodded her head slightly. “Yes, in a sense. Well, really Harry was going to reach out. Harry didn’t reach out?”

Understanding hit Draco like an ice-cold wave. He could practically feel the truth emanating from the cold, dark covers of the books Hermione was carrying. He inhaled deeply and said, “No, Harry hasn’t reached out.”

Hermione followed her eyes down to the books and looked back up at him, all pretenses of a polite smile gone from her face. She nodded remorsefully. “There have been - you do need to sign a contract before I can discuss anything about this with you, Draco. It’s highly classified information.”

“Don’t bring me in on it?” Draco suggested hopelessly. 

“Then why did you offer to help?” Hermione whispered.

“I didn’t offer to help! I never offered to help! I filed an informal complaint!”

“Draco,” Hermione said in a hushed voice. “There have now been four unauthorized Kissings, all in Wales. Trained obliviators were dispatched to obliviate the surrounding communities, which is absolutely not their job. No one knows what to offer them or even how to offer them anything. There are very few records of how the Ministry ever chained them to Azkaban in the first place. Voldemort had some ability to negotiate with the dementors.”

“So to be clear,” Draco asked slowly, “Potter was going to reach out because he thought I might have information? Or because the Aurors want to do another sweep of my father’s library?”

“Does it matter, Draco?”

“More than you could possibly believe.”

Hermione frowned. “I believe the Aurors have already pushed through a warrant to do another sweep of Malfoy Manor. I, however, would like to speak to you directly. So would you please accompany me to sign some NDAs so I don’t get fired for discussing this with you?”

Draco rubbed his eyes like he was stuck in a horrible waking nightmare. His mind drifted back to Blaise’s suggestion from months ago that Draco should stay as far as possible from anything involving the Dark - wizards, creatures, arts, books in Lucius’s library. Blaise’s plan was working. Draco was unbelievably flattered that Hermione Granger would ever consider his input to be useful, but it directly contradicted Blaise's plan, which was working. He didn’t want to get anywhere near the dark.

He also didn’t want to get Hermione Granger fired, and all she was doing was asking him to sign a contract so that she could speak to him freely.

His shoulders slumped. “I can’t even do a Patronus.”

Hermione smiled slightly. “That isn’t what we’d need from you. Come with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Works Consulted  
> https://www.therichest.com/rich-list/the-5-richest-hogwarts-graduates/


	4. A Mutually Beneficial Union (September 2000)

“It’s funny. When Ron needed to relax before our wedding day, well… I’m not actually sure where he went, but it certainly wasn’t a potions laboratory.” Hermione Granger smiled ingratiatingly and waited for a response. When Draco did not give one to her, she huffed and dropped down onto a stool next to him. “And these are?”

“As many different types of blood as many can buy.” He returned a dropper to a bottle and turned to face her. “And money can buy a lot of different types of blood.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “And in the cages?”

“Fruit flies infected with vampirism. I asked for chimps but was denied. Muggles use these instead. I can’t say I understand the difference, and the ethical distinction is oh, so boring to me.” Draco sighed. “But if Muggles do it, then.” 

“Drosophila, yes. We use them in the Department of Mysteries for the, er - _unimportant_ cases. Correct me if I’m wrong, but vampirism is only supposed to infect humans?”

“And some bats, yes. And mosquitoes are - well, I don’t believe they’re actually related, but we have some breeding in that pool over there anyway. For science.” 

“Humans and some bats,” Hermione agreed. She gestured at the cage. “These are neither.”

“Well-observed, Hermione Granger, tell me: What can we offer you to dissuade you from your fast-track towards Minister for Magic and join us instead here in the Beast Division?”

“Don’t call it that. It’s outdated.”

“I’ll call it what I want! I lead it!”

“Yes, and making your employees wear pins that say BEAST DIVISION is an incredibly juvenile form of protest, Draco. You appear bent on undermining all of our progress with the centaurs and merpeople and other formerly Ministry resistant non-Wizarding magical folks.” The earnestness with which she rattled off the term _other formerly Ministry resistant non-Wizarding magical folks_ made him want to scream or, more accurately, burst out laughing. Who spoke like this? Why wasn’t she already Minister?

Draco scoffed and looked around for an underling to join him in his righteous indignation before he remembered that he’d sent everyone home because they were (and this was the official reason) ‘annoying to look at’. That was, actually, likely the reason that Hermione had come up from the Department of Mysteries to check on him. It wasn’t her job to oversee him, but most people in charge of supervising Draco either were terrified to oppose him or got _too much_ satisfaction from the duty. Plus, Hermione had technically been the one to station him in the department and hand him far more responsibility than he had any right to bear. She also had the unique ability to find absolutely anything interesting, so she really didn't seem to mind adding the responsibilities of a whole other job to her plate. Again, Draco had absolutely no idea why she was not yet Minister for Magic.

He scowled at her childishly. “Allow me to remind you that when I took this job, there was a very fascinating and intellectually stimulating dementor crisis on our hands. One year later, I am coaxing House-elves to wear ugly socks and enroll in classes to hone their magic, negotiating with the Muggle Liaison Office to curtail water pollution so that all the little merbabies will stop coming out as little merfreaks, and overall being the kind of person I’ve always mocked the most. I will rebel however I see fit. And it will likely involve buttons.”

Hermione smiled, the kind of beatific smile that she’d had when she explained to Draco that no punishment had ever been so just as him taking a Ministry job liaising with House-elves and all the horrible creatures that made Draco wish the Beast Division still had a Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. Now, they’d developed a horrifyingly Hagridean approach of finding a home for even the vilest of monsters. And it was Draco’s job to find them that home. The only creatures that everyone could get on board with exterminating were, unfortunately, impossible to kill. Draco hated his job. “Don’t try to distract me. Why is the vampirism virus in creatures who haven’t been known to show the vampirism virus?”

“Ever since I received a strongly worded cease and desist memo for experimenting on humans? Sorry. _Human-like creatures._ Wait, no, _human-like magical and non-magical folks?_ Let me know when I’m close.”

“You’re deflecting, and I see straight through it.”

“Did I mention I’m getting married on Saturday?” Draco asked with his most charming smile. She seemed unmoved. Blaise had warned him that the smile was likely less charming than he thought it was. “Of course you know. You’ll be there! Tell me, what are you wearing? I want all the details. Dress, shoes… even hair, I can take it.”

“Draco Malfoy!”

He sputtered indignantly. “How do you think people study viruses, Hermione? They manipulate them and, along the way, make them even more viral. Now, I am struggling not to use the phrase ‘for the greater good’, but you must understand what I’m saying.”

Hermione was unimpressed. “I’m understanding that you’ve independently innovated mosquitoes.”

Draco gasped. “Is that what they are?” 

“Did anyone tell you to do this?” Hermione asked. She leaned across the lab table to observe the vicious fruit flies with a grimace. 

Once her proximity was known to the group, they flew to her with such vigor that some of the flies collided with the transparent cage in a _splat_ of blood and dead fruit fly. When it was clear that none of the living flies were going to investigate the tiny blood smears, Draco pointed out, “Look. No interest in the blood of their own species? What a fascinating observation that would not exist without my experiments.”

“Yes, but not because they’re other flies! It’s because they’re other vampire flies! Everyone knows that vampires don’t crave the blood of other vampires!”

“Of course I know that, and you know that. Let me run this experiment three more times, and I’ll let you know if evidence supports your assertion enough for us to draw up a theory, shall I?”

Hermione sighed. “I never found politics attractive. Then I explored academia.”

“Honestly, I explored politics first.”

“And?” Hermione asked with a wry smile.

“It’s worse. Too much blood, if you ask me.” He leaned forward to peer into the tank. “So the question now is whether they can actually survive on the blood of other vampires. They’ve proven so unwilling to consume any vampire blood that I’ve had to ‘simulate’ starvation conditions.”

“And you wanted to use _humans_ for this experiment?”

“No, of course not. Chimps.”

“And what is the practical value of this question if the creatures resist in any circumstance above starvation?”

Draco blinked. “Practical value? You betray yourself. This is academia, Unspeakable Granger. I while away the days down here in my dank little Ministry-equivalent-of-a-dungeon wasting department money and occasionally venturing above ground to dispense socks and hats, as one does.”

“You do recall that this department is funded in large part by the Malfoy Trust?”

“Clearly I have gone about five different types of insane down here. The only reason I set up that trust was because the oxymoron was far too good to pass up, and now in hindsight, that really doesn’t seem to be a good enough reason to fund multiple ineffective Ministry ventures, does it?”

If Draco had been doubting how he ever let himself sink to this level, then his question was immediately answered when Hermione laughed with genuine amusement. Sometimes when he couldn’t quite tell if they were fighting and was one wrong word away from losing the relationship forever, she’d smile or laugh and he’d feel the same sort of general astonishment he’d felt when Blaise and Millicent had shown up to join him at the Hogwarts Reconstruction, that complete disbelief that anyone could see something good in him other than his Gringotts vault and his father’s name. In Hermione’s case, it was all the more shocking because she saw something good in him _in spite_ of his Gringotts vault and father’s name.

Draco was not especially good with apologies. Fortunately, Hermione hadn’t demanded any apologies from him. She had demanded that he spend the rest of his life humiliating himself with noble Hufflepuff work, but if Draco was able to redeem himself without speaking openly about his feelings with someone he’d wronged, then he’d take it. A lifetime of liberating House-elves was a significant improvement over looking her in the eye and saying _I’m sorry I called you a Mudblood and a lot of other insults I’ve forgotten and also that I stood there and watched while you were tortured in my family home._ Just the thought of saying those words made him want to go liberate some House-elves.

Most of Hermione’s friend group took their lead from her and were polite to Draco if their paths ever crossed. She was the only one who saw him with any regularity due to Ministry synergy and all that wash. In fact, the only member of Dumbledore’s Army who was noticeably cold to him was the same person to whom he owed his life and his freedom. It was a shame because Draco desperately wanted to speak to him (or, at least, hear him speak). He had a _lot_ of questions. 

The only information he’d been able to glean from a mixture of tabloids and gossip was that Harry Potter was exceptional at (and obsessed with) his job and that he’d gone rather rogue in his quest to catch Fenrir Greyback, who was as it stood the only of Voldemort’s core supporters who had not been delivered to justice and was rumored to be assembling a Werewolf army. Sometimes Draco would get excited because Werewolves were technically under his jurisdiction and Potter would be forced to interact with him, and other times he remembered how bloody terrified he’d felt the only time he’d seen Potter during the Dementor case and just wanted to go drink tea with House-elves.

He couldn’t blame Potter for being cold during the Dementor case. Draco had been telling him all the things that he hadn’t wanted to hear. It must have been wonderful for Potter to think that he could win the war and banish the Dementors with a single order, and Draco was forced into the role of the person that explained to the Chosen One that some (most) things really just didn’t work that way. The Dementors simply had to go back to Azkaban. There was nothing else to feed them. They couldn’t die and couldn’t be controlled adequately. They could, Draco had informed him, have tried to trade the Dementors to other wizarding governments for _their_ prisons but should be even more wary of the idea of another government wielding the Dementors. The U.K. Ministry of Magic had made a huge mistake breeding so many Dementors, but they now had to be viewed as an asset at least in terms of relative gains. 

Potter didn’t trust him. He clearly thought there was some way to destroy the Dementors that Draco wasn’t sharing. Draco tried to explain that he also believed there must be a way to destroy the Dementors, just as there must be a way to stop Fiendfyre, but he didn’t know it. Hermione had found information on how to prevent additional breeding, and that was the most they had. The Fiendfyre analogy had relaxed Potter somewhat until he asked Draco his next question: _How do we tell them to go back?_

The New Ministry didn’t appreciate how difficult it was to reason with a Dementor. The Dementors had been guarding Azkaban for centuries; there was no clear record of who told them to do so or how’d they’d convinced them. Potter had raised a very good point, that someone had told them to hunt down Sirius Black after he’d escaped, but Draco had explained that the Dementors had already viewed Sirius Black as theirs. The only thing the Ministry had done was set some free temporarily so that they could reclaim that which had slipped past their grasps. The Ministry had wanted to inspire confidence by telling people that they wouldn’t touch anyone but Sirius Black, but Potter was living proof that they’d been lying. He could see on Harry Potter’s face the second he’d realized that Draco was telling the truth. The expression was so horrible that Draco had wished he had been lying. He would have been a much easier enemy for Potter to take down.

There was only one person in living memory who had reasoned with the Dementors, and that was Lord Voldemort. No one knew for sure how he’d done it. Draco had turned over every book in his father’s study, perused the Pensieve, and even had one horrible Auror-supervised visit with his father in Azkaban in which Lucius had realized quite early into the interview what they intended to do with the Dementors and simply stopped speaking to him. After much mental and emotional exhaustion, Draco had developed a theory to deliver to Potter.

Lord Voldemort had, according to the memories that Draco had strung together connected by sinews with the sparse words of Lucius Malfoy, not done the communication directly. In order to communicate with a soulless vortex like a Dementor, a human being had to be degraded to a similar level of hopelessness. These figures were referred to, in the books dark enough to include the phenomenon, as the Half-Kissed. It was difficult, when a person reached such a level of spiritual decay, for them to retain any sense of purpose enough to communicate with a Dementor. Lord Voldemort had been uniquely suited to manipulate the Half-Kissed as he inspired his followers largely through abject fear. He could torture his followers until they were barely human, and they would still follow his commands. 

With this jumping-off point, the research of Hermione Granger (and the Department of Mysteries as a whole) quickly outpaced Draco’s additions, and his Death Eater knowledge was rendered blessedly obsolete. Draco wasn’t sure how exactly Potter had used this information to convince the Dementors to go back. He wasn’t even sure who actually knew for sure what he had done. The Dementor situation as a whole had been completely covered up by the Ministry - the Ministry’s first coverup under Potter and Granger rule, and they were both clearly heartbroken to be a part of it. Obliviators had been ordered on civilians in the first year of the New Ministry, and although the situation was far more nuanced than such reductionism, Draco could see how Potter might have convinced himself that it was his own fault for releasing Azkaban from the Dementors without adequate information.

In the year since the Dementors had returned to Azkaban, Draco had nursed any number of theories as to how Potter had managed it. His favorite theory was that Potter had withstood the Cruciatus himself. He was now uniquely able to empathize with the majority of Wizarding Britain, who simply refused to believe that Potter could ever do or be part of anything unsavory, because Draco was very aware that Innis Travers had ten years shaved off his sentence with no clear explanation for why and was reported to have been moved to St. Mungo’s Hospital to serve the rest of his sentence due to a mystery ailment, and still Draco deeply believed that Potter must have taken it himself. He never saw him after that point to press his theory. 

Blaise had been skeptical of Draco’s willingness to affiliate himself with the Dementor case but couldn’t deny the success of the venture. Draco had a great number of reasons to feel guilty, but none stung as much as the realization that he had built his future on bringing the Dementors back to Azkaban, where his father currently resided. Either he would feel guilty because he loved his father and hated the image of Dementors feasting on his soul, or he would feel guilty because he hated his father and didn’t even care that the man who conceived him would be a shallow husk by the time he ever met Draco again. 

Lucius suffered, and Potter suffered, and Draco had carved out a pretty nice niche for himself down in the Beast Division. He liked his job. He liked Blaise and his fellow Slytherins. He liked Hermione, Ron, and Luna. He liked research and travel. He liked House-elves, and they really liked him, which was nice. He liked being liked. Overall, Blaise’s guidance in insinuating himself back into the Ministry had been the best thing that had ever happened to him. And now Draco was leading his department and was getting married in three days. Gryffindors, not including Potter, would be at his bloody wedding. Hermione Granger was visiting him in his office to have a chat. She had laughed at a joke he’d made. He had come so much farther than he ever dreamed possible.

“Well,” Hermione said fondly, and Draco once again could not believe this was his life. “Ron and George have created a whole new line of fireworks for the reception, and they are certain to be horribly rude because they haven’t even let me see them.”

“As long as they only target me. And don’t show any graphic images of ferrets copulating with a - well, a snake, I suppose? Who am I kidding? Of course there will be graphic images of ferrets copulating with snakes.”

“Yes, of course,” Hermione agreed. Her mirth and Draco’s generally unbelievable luck made him unable to be angry at the idea. It struck him as shocking sometimes that a trait as irrelevant of blood status would convince him to look down on the most talented witch of their (and, realistically, any) age. “I couldn’t imagine either of them would have anything bad to say about Astoria.”

Draco bit back a smile. “The worst thing I’ve ever heard a person say about Astoria is, _‘Who?’”_

Hermione laughed again. Had he been in a bad mood a few minutes ago? He couldn’t remember. “Do I sound horribly snooty if I say that irrelevance is not the worst thing in the world?”

“Miss Granger, irrelevance is the goal,” Draco said seriously. 

He had nearly worked himself into a panic attack about the wedding and his many failings as a bridegroom over the last few hours, but those nerves were extinguished as Hermione’s warmth reminded him how unbelievably fortunate he was to have this opportunity. His body once again thrummed with excitement. Not, perhaps, in the way that a twenty-year-old virgin’s body would thrum in excitement at the idea of marrying one of the fittest girls in their House. And, upon further examination, ‘thrum’ was a stupid word, wasn’t it? Draco suddenly hated it. Thrum, thrum, Viktor Krum. It was nonsense. He was delighted to have a kind, funny, intelligent bride, thrumming and Viktor Krumming be damned.

Even if Draco hadn’t been a Disgraced Man, Astoria Greengrass was an incredible win. She really was gorgeous. He loved the way her smile was so genuine and amused even when Draco was being pathetic or annoying. He adored the way she could fire back a biting remark when Draco lashed out without thinking and the way she wouldn’t get her feelings hurt because he couldn’t always control his tongue. He was so thankful that she really did not seem to belabour the physical inadequacies of their relationship. Astoria did nothing but encourage and tease and embolden him. She was his very best friend, and he was about to marry her. That was smashing news.

A more sensitive girl would have been hurt by Draco a thousand times over at this point. The potions had helped his dramatic mood fluctuations, but he still lashed out without considering the other person’s feelings more than he would like considering he was already saturated with guilt. Even when Astoria had proposed the union, Draco had insulted her tremendously, and she had simply scolded him and proceeded with her life. In Draco’s defense, nothing that he’d said had been wrong, but employing that defense usually got him into even more trouble.

It was only a few weeks after the Dementor case was settled. Astoria was telling Draco about herself, and he was zoning out because it didn’t really matter. She was recounting, in great detail, the story that Truvius Greengrass had created to hide his gambling debts. Draco was sure, if he enjoyed fiction, that it would be a wonderful story - hags and curses and premature deaths. It was all very poetic. It was, of course, lies. He wasn’t sure whether or not Astoria herself believed the stories were lies, because she explained with unflinching belief that women in her family did not live past forty.

“Oh,” Draco had said distantly. “That must be why the Greengrass women have always been such famous beauties.”

Astoria hadn’t answered, and Draco had prodded, “Because they never get wizened? Did you understand?”

“Yes, Draco, I did,” she had said tersely. After a long silence in which he, without thinking much about what he was doing, had used his wand to illustrate Astoria’s stories with shadows on the wall, she said, “We should get married.”

“But you’re a lemon,” Draco had told her.

Astoria, even given her own unflappable nature, had seemed upset by the carelessness of this statement. “Draco, that’s a really cruel thing to say to someone.”

“You said it yourself. Your family is broke, and you’re barren. I’m sorry, Astoria, but that is the absolute definition of a lemon. I once questioned why I ever learned such a Muggle term, but now I know: It was to apply it to this situation.”

“I’m not barren! Draco, these are really mean things to say to someone! Having Daphne and me took a few years off my mother’s life, but it was going to be short no matter what. She told us that she never doubted her decision to have kids.” Astoria had looked genuinely offended. “And do you need more money? It’s not like you’ve even touched the Malfoy fortune during the Reconstruction. It’s all Auntie Bella’s. Want to marry her?”

“Alright, you’ve got me. Fortune is irrelevant.” Draco had grinned at her affectionately. “I see what you’ve done.”

Astoria’s look of hurt had dropped immediately, a clear sign that she had feigned it for Draco’s benefit. “Oh?”

“Oh,” he had confirmed. “You and your sister happened to get involved in the Reconstruction, and now Blaise and I have done all the work, and Daphne’s marrying Blaise, and you’re going to marry me. Greengrassess on the rise, hm?”

“Oh, am I going to marry you?” Astoria had smirked. “I wasn’t aware.”

Draco had rolled his eyes. “Obviously you’re going to marry me, Astoria. Who else would we marry?”

Astoria’s smile spread slowly as she understood Draco’s offer. “We should kiss now.”

“Don’t ruin it,” Draco had warned her, and Astoria had laughed so loudly that Draco was sure he’d feel happy for the rest of his life with her around, and suddenly forty years seemed like a very short time, especially considering that it translated to only twenty together. Draco had sworn to himself that, if she wasn’t lying, he would figure out how to break the Greengrass curse before it became relevant to their lives together. Astoria was his best friend, and he loved when she laughed. He would kill anyone who hurt her. It was just his misfortune that the person who’d hurt her was a hag who had died over a century ago. 

He smiled to himself as he mulled over how perfect Astoria Greengrass really was and reported, “I don’t need to escape to a potions lab.”

“Aw, sweet,” Hermione murmured as if she really didn’t find his declaration to be that romantic. “I cannot wait. You’re simply glowing. Now, in the 72 hours before the nuptials, would you mind submitting a permit for this new lethal and potentially dangerous species?”

“Dangerous and potentially lethal,” Draco corrected.

“Excuse me?”

 _“Vampirus drosophila_ and all other vampiric species - they’re definitely dangerous. They just might be lethal.”

“Okay, Draco, thank you for correcting me on that very important distinction,” Hermione said dubiously. “I await the paperwork.” 

She rummaged around inside a rather handsome briefcase and pulled out a hefty sheet of paperwork. She looked up and grinned at Draco. “Oh, look! I have it here for you.”

Draco was nonplussed. “You knew what I was doing here.”

She smiled and put her hand on the top of his head, which shouldn’t have felt as soothing as it was. He hated Hermione and himself. “I look forward to seeing you at the wedding, Draco.”

*

“What even - mate, is this a Muggle band? What’s - it’s - it’s two sexy, sentimental pop brothers? Am I at the right wedding? Why are they here? Are they Imperiused? How did you even find them? Why did you choose them? Malfoy, don’t pretend you can’t understand me! Nothing that I’m saying is more nonsense than your choice of band!”

Ron Weasley was leaning far too close to Draco’s face, raising absolutely fair questions. Draco frowned and glanced up at the Muggle duo on the stage as they crooned to the enraptured audience. Draco had never seen an audience be so charmed by something other than magic, but these two - they had it. They knew how to melt hearts. “Daphne took control of the entertainment.”

Hermione tried to frown but was clearly smiling. “Draco, if this band is Imperiused, that is highly illegal.”

“They aren’t Imperiused!” Draco insisted. “Daphne had a near-infinite budget. I’m sure she could afford these two hunky brothers.”

“Hunky brothers,” Ron wheezed.

“Besides,” Millicent said pragmatically. “Didn’t Harry and Ginny have _the_ Led Zeppelin at their wedding?”

“Led Zeppelin isn’t actually the bloke’s name,” Draco informed her, impressing himself with his own knowledge of Muggle culture. “It’s a stage name.” No one else looked very impressed.

“Harry and Ginny are war heroes,” Hermione argued.

Millicent laughed. “Led Zeppelin is a Muggle! He has no idea there even was a war! You’re telling me he wasn’t Obliviated at the end of the evening?”

Hermione scowled, unable to deny that reasoning. 

Ron seemed confused as he looked between Draco and Millicent. “Led Zeppelin - it’s not one bloke. It’s a band.”

“Well,” Draco sniffed. “Maybe we would know that if we’d been invited to the Potter wedding.”

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look, and Ron guided the subject back to the crooners with characteristic lack of tact and subtlety. “So Daphne - she wanted these Muggle brothers? Friends? Lovers, maybe?”

“They’re called Savage Garden,” Draco reported. “I don’t really understand it myself. I have absolutely no idea how she could have discovered them, or why she couldn’t have discovered a different band.”

“They’ve been very hot lately,” Hermione told him. “Muggles have had a very tender decade.”

“‘A very tender decade’?” Ron repeated. “Hermione, you’re sloshed. What does that even mean?”

“The band is wonderful,” Ginny interjected as she joined the group, and Draco spun around to examine the six-month-along Ginny Potter. The most covert gossip (and multiple Rita Skeeter articles) had suggested that the baby was a mistake, forcing Ginny to give up her career years before expected, but still the entire Wizarding World rejoiced for this little Potter fetus, upon which immense expectations were already being foisted. Either way, Draco found the rumor rather unbelievable; accidental pregnancies were nearly unheard of in the Wizarding World, and Rita Skeeter was likely struggling because the Potters were almost impossible to criticize. They were a happy, perfect family who happened to have their first child on the younger side because they were so excited to start a family. It was all very obvious. “We had to Obliviate our band too, Draco. As long as they have the money, they just assume they did too much acid.”

“Ginny,” Draco greeted. He was suddenly very aware of how drunk he was. It was one thing when everyone around him was also tipsy, but he was now in a conversation with Harry Potter’s sober, pregnant wife. “What an - well, I’m about to say ‘honor’? Can I say ‘honor’? Your husband and baby daddy - he is not here.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” Ginny said grimly. “But what is the point of the fancy maternity dresses that people keep sending me if I don’t go to all the available wedding ceremonies?”

“And Potter - he is?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “On some mission, I have no idea.”

“Oh, that’s good for - who is that good for?”

“The victims of the crime he’s investigating, I expect.”

“Well, good for the victims,” declared Draco shakily. “I - you look lovely, of course. Glowing. Fully inseminated with Potter sper - glowing, that is. You look glowing. Inseminated with… glow.” He coughed. He could practically feel Ron, Hermione, and Millicent boggling at him. This was a perfect example of why Draco almost never drank. “Have you seen Astoria?”

“I’m right here,” Astoria reported at his side. “Have been for several seconds, but you said ‘Potter sperm’, and I simply could not interrupt and risk pulling your foot out of your mouth.” She beamed at Ginny. “You look lovely. I assume that the dress was made for you?”

“Enormously Pregnant Chaser Chic,” Ginny informed her, warming up the moment that Astoria was present. Everyone always warmed up when Astoria was present. “And you are - wow, I mean, even I feel creepy when I say you’re a vision, Ast. Wow.”

Astoria was a vision. She was every bridegroom's dream, an ethereal beauty with dark hair and pale skin in an ancestral white lace gown, tightened with a magical bodice to create unrealistic expectations of a woman’s body proportions. Draco doubted that she could breathe and gave every effort to taking pictures with her to commemorate her sacrifice. Astoria - no woman alive had anything on her. Astoria. She was perfect. Draco’s fuzzy brain suggested that he might actually love her. This was probably what love was. 

Astoria smiled, and Draco was sure that the harvest in several developing nations would be bountiful that year. “I - yes, Draco had some brilliant House-elves.” She paused and smirked in a way that really should have struck him as deeply sexual. Instead, Draco was still pondering whether or not Astoria’s smile could make crops grow. “On staff.”

“I was being sent wedding gowns before Harry and I were even engaged,” Ginny said, as if there were any negatives to being engaged to Harry Potter. Ginny was the luckiest woman in the world. “I’m wondering - are Blaise and Daphne here?”

Draco almost choked, because any woman should be ecstatic to have the attention of Harry Potter and Ginny was basically asking for someone to pay attention to her. Astoria whacked him on the back and said, “I’m sure they’ll find you.” It was the truth. Blaise and Daphne were perfectly suited; Daphne could have been threatened by his constant flirtation with Ginny Potter but instead had decided to join in herself. Ginny clearly loved it. 

His wedding was absolutely perfect other than one mildly world-changing hiccough. Shockingly, it had almost nothing to do with the fact that Draco had gotten far drunker than was advisable considering he was surrounded on all sides by press and Gryffindors. The party itself was perfect. His mother had thrown herself into the planning, which was the main reason that Draco had agreed to a large wedding. He would have happily had a private ceremony, but Blaise and Daphne had pointed out that he had to stop pretending like he didn’t exist. 

Everything was going so well that Draco was completely blindsided by Millicent’s intended, Marcus Flint, grunting, “Did you hear what happened to your friends?”

“What?” Draco asked, immediately thinking of Blaise and Astoria, his best friends. He didn’t have any other friends. Flint would have referenced Millicent by name. It wasn’t as if they were in love; their union was even more calculated than Draco and Astoria’s, but they were going to get married and did tolerate each other remarkably well. 

“Their lengths were lengthened,” he reported cryptically. 

Draco tried not to think of Blaise’s length. “What?”

“Goyle and Nott.”

Draco felt sick and suddenly wished he weren’t so drunk. He was not equipped to handle this conversation sober. Draco had never expected to be challenged mentally by something Marcus Flint said, even if he did think it was merely interesting gossip about mutual acquaintances. “Goyle and Nott - how did you hear about this?”

“It hit the papers this morning,” Flint said. Draco was so thrown by the information that he couldn’t fully appreciate the ridiculousness of Marcus Flint reading the newspapers. “They were sentenced to two years, but former Death Eaters - as you know, Malfoy, of course - you were all meant to turn over any Dark Artifacts. The Aurors did a pre-release sweep of their estates and found a bunch of contraband. They had denied possession of all of it, but both families have had six more years tacked on to all sentences.”

This struck Draco as very strange. The Goyles and Notts had never had many important Dark Artifacts to their names to begin with. Nothing that they would be so reluctant to turn over that they’d try to outsmart the Aurors. “Do you know what they found?”

“Rumors suggest multiple kinds of restricted venom and some books that fall under the Riddle Restrictions. Some say they even had a Monkey’s Paw and prototypes to a Time Turner.” Flint seemed genuinely surprised that Draco hadn’t heard of this yet. Draco was also surprised. The story had been out long enough for rumors to circulate, but he’d been busy with his wedding. As if that was important.

Draco was sure that the rumors were true. He could picture all of those objects perfectly. They were supposed to be hidden in the walls of his father’s study. They were the prizes of the collection.

“Right,” Draco said tersely. “That’s very - if you’d excuse me, I need to find Blaise.”

“Sure thing. Er - congratulations.”

“On wha -? Oh, right. Yes. Thank you.”

Flint gave him a knowing smile that demonstrated how atrocious his teeth truly were, and Draco smiled back hesitantly. He was somewhat surprised by how little he minded Marcus Flint. They’d overlapped during Draco’s first two years on the Quidditch team; Flint had been abrasive and generally disgusting, and Draco had been at his peak snotty. He never imagined their paths would cross again, but Blaise never lost touch with anyone who might be valuable one day. His upbringing had been like one long Slub Club mixer, except instead of taking photographs with the most powerful members, his mother would marry them. 

Draco never would have guessed that Flint would be useful for anything other than throwing a Quaffle through a hoop, but Blaise could find the value in anyone. He really was a perfect husband for Millicent. Marcus had a sort of above-the-board scumminess that allowed him to admit freely that he’d have so many extramarital affairs regardless of whomever he married that he really didn’t care if his wife was gay. He wasn’t a pure-blood, but his family line was diluted with troll rather than Muggle, which Draco privately still considered to be an improvement. Plus, Marcus Flint could make even Millicent look tiny, and Draco loved that for her. Overall, he supported the union. 

Flint nudged him and gave a helpful nod to where Blaise could be found laughing uproariously with Daphne and Ginny. Draco grimaced at Flint in what he intended to be a grateful manner before shoving his way across the room.

Blaise’s smile didn’t fade as Draco dragged him away from the girls without an explanation. In fact, it broadened. “Malfoy, did you really try to talk to Ginny Potter about her husband’s sperm? We need to get you drunk more often.”

“I didn’t - it wasn’t a topic of conversation. Is she saying I did? That is not what happened.”

“You didn’t say Harry Potter’s sperm made her glow?”

“That is a dangerous misquoting. Blaise, did you hear about what happened to the Goyles and Notts?”

Blaise’s smirk disappeared in an instant. “About their sentences being extended?”

Draco studied his face very closely for any signs of guilt that he knew must be there. “Who knew Goyle Senior owned such rare, powerful artifacts?”

“Who indeed.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “How did this happen?”

“I assume their fathers collected items that they perceived as so valuable that they didn’t want to risk parting with them and were foolish enough to think they could hide said items from the Aurors?”

“Except we both know the Goyles would never be in possession of anything half as valuable as a Monkey’s Paw.”

Blaise scanned the room anxiously before taking a step closer to Draco. “Malfoy, don’t get hung up on this.”

“I don’t see how I possibly could not. Blaise, they are going to know who those items actually belonged to! Every former Death Eater is going to want my head.”

“As if they didn’t already. You fed them to the Dementors in exchange for a seat at the table with the Gryffindors, and you did it brilliantly. Public opinion is that you’re as big a traitor to the cause as Severus Snape, though not nearly as respectable. Still, they’re a bunch of disgraced convicts, and you have half of Dumbledore’s Army at your wedding, so I would still bet on you. In fact, I have bet on you.”

Draco frowned. “You did do it, didn’t you? How? Did my mother know about this? Did she help you?”

“Draco, relax,” Blaise said soothingly. “You shouldn’t dwell on this. From where I’m looking at it, we had two big problems, and now we have none. The first Death Eaters won’t start to be released for years to come, and all of those pesky objects that your father never should have concealed have been disposed of.”

“What’s wrong if they get released? They’ve done their time!”

“I’m not ready for them yet!” Blaise snapped. He so rarely lost his composure that Draco forgot to be angry. “They are unnecessary variables that I can’t control! Everything is going so well with them locked away, and I just need a little bit more time! Hogwarts hasn’t even reopened yet.”

“Hogwarts, sure. If you actually cared about Slytherin, you would care that two of our classmates just got years added to their sentence for something that wasn’t their fault!”

“Candidly, Draco, I’m hoping they never live to see the light of day. Gregory and Theodore disgraced themselves and our House. I don’t have to care about every classmate I’ve ever had for my intentions to be genuine.”

Draco gaped at him. “You want them to die there?”

“I want all the Death Eaters to die there, Draco. All of them. They’re nothing but unnecessary risks to everything we are working so hard to build. I have no use for them. Now, if you would excuse me, I and my beautiful wife are busy trying to finagle a threesome with Ginny Potter at this lovely Malfoy-Greengrass wedding reception. It is thanks to me and my meddling that we are able to make such absurd statements, and I would prefer not to ruin the evening by discussing Death Eaters and Azkaban. Understand?”

Draco’s heart twisted. It struck him as suddenly ridiculous that only minutes ago he had been thinking of Blaise Zabini as his closest friend. “I am a Death Eater.”

Blaise must have noticed Draco’s hurt because his face softened and he reached out to put a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Draco, that’s not what I’m saying.”

“Why am I different? Because my sentence was shorter?”

Blaise hesitated. “No, Draco. You’re different.”

“Why?” he demanded, jerking his shoulder away. “Why am I different? Because you’re confident you can control me?”

“What do you want me to say? You know how to follow an order? It’s your greatest strength? Stop trying to trick me into being cruel. You can’t bait me. You’re my best mate besides Millie, and I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you over the past two years. I like who you are now. I highly doubt I would ever have been able to say the same of Gregory Goyle or Theodore Nott. Now, once again, I am going to go flirt with Harry Potter’s wife. Goyle and Nott have been dealt with, and you are entirely uninvolved. Go find Astoria or Granger and Weasley or any of the other incredible people that you’re lucky to consort with. Enjoy the night.”

The pressure on Draco’s heart relaxed somewhat. “I’m your best mate besides Millie?” He frowned. “Are you manipulating me with affection?”

“Draco, stop trying to sabotage this! I kind of love you, you wanker.” 

A huge smile blossomed on Draco’s face, all pain and anger immediately forgotten. “What? You do?”

Blaise made a rude hand gesture and strode across the room to rejoin Daphne and Ginny.

*

Draco quite enjoyed being married. It was like having a friend around all the time. He appreciated that Astoria had no former associations with the Manor from either their childhood or the Dark Lord’s occupation. Her arrival made the whole gloomy place feel fresh, and her presence really cheered up Narcissa, who had been sinking deeper and deeper into a dead-eyed silence in the continued absence of his father. Draco wasn’t sure why his absence should be affecting her more now than it had when they had heard the sentence, but she confided in him one evening a few months into his marriage that she was sure she’d never see Lucius alive outside of Azkaban again. She had seemed very certain.

Narcissa and Astoria had already bonded through regular correspondence before Astoria and Draco had even gotten engaged. Astoria was like a daughter to Narcissa. Together, they redecorated the entire Manor and made it somewhere that Draco didn’t hate to live. For some reason that Draco couldn’t quite understand, Astoria didn’t seem to hate the Manor or the Malfoys. She actually seemed happy, and Draco began to enjoy being at home almost as much as he enjoyed being at work.

Procreation was a struggle. Draco knew it would be difficult for a number of reasons. Now that Astoria lived with him (in a separate but adjacent bedroom) and he could observe her everyday, he realized that she was already a lot more frail than she had been letting on. She took more potions each morning than he did. The idea of losing her to a curse became increasingly terrifying every morning he walked downstairs to find her smiling sleepily and chatting with Narcissa in the kitchen. Astoria seemed confident that having a child was the right thing to do and that her body could handle the stress, and Draco really wanted to give his mother a grandchild, so he persevered.

There was also the issue he had anticipated years ago that “produce an heir” was technically synonymous with “have sex with a biological woman.” He had tried for years not to dwell on that tiny, insignificant detail, but it really didn’t feel insignificant in the moment. Fortunately, Astoria was amazing and understood without him ever being forced to say the words. She researched some illicit spells that Draco remembered overhearing some Slytherin upperclassmen joking about in the common room in his third year, which solved most of his problems.

Even with those hurdles overcome, it still took a very long time to achieve conception. Fertility potions would have made it easier, but both Draco’s and Astoria’s daily regimens would have interacted badly with at least one of the ingredients in any fertility potion. Potter’s first red-headed brat was already a year old by the time they got the positive. Draco was shocked by how excited he felt. Astoria had warned him that, given her condition, they shouldn’t share the news with anyone outside of the family for a few months, but even that grim warning couldn’t dampen his joy.

Draco was bursting with excitement when Astoria finally gave him permission to share the news at work. Hermione Granger actually hugged him and almost started crying when she informed him that her first would be in the same class as Draco’s child. Up until that point, he had really thought of the fetus as more of an heir than a baby, and he fully started weeping the moment he was alone in the lab.

The good news had warped his view of the world to the extent that, when Harry Potter showed up in Draco’s office, he foolishly thought that Potter had come to congratulate him on Baby Cassiopeia-or-Scorpius.

It struck Draco that this was the first time he had seen Potter in person in years. He looked very much the same, but his eyes were darker and more serious than they had been even when he was being actively hunted by Lord Voldemort. His air had changed somewhat in a way Draco couldn’t identify. He had taken for granted growing up that he would see Potter everyday. The thought that years could go by - their weddings, the birth of Potter’s son, the conception of Draco’s - without them ever crossing paths was suddenly so painfully obvious that Draco felt stupid. And of course Potter wasn’t here to congratulate him on the child. He probably didn’t even know. Draco was an idiot.

He was so busy beating himself up that he missed Potter’s opening words. Potter paused, waiting for a response, then deduced from Draco’s vacant, confused expression that he hadn’t heard him and repeated, “Hogwarts is ready to reopen.”

“How nice for it,” Draco said baldly.

“It’s been years,” Potter reported. Draco almost thought that he was referring to how long it had been since they’d seen each other but quickly recognized that he was talking about the castle. “You used to be very interested in its progress.”

“That was always more Blaise’s passion than mine. I personally think Slytherin probably should be closed.”

“I do too,” Potter agreed. “In fact, I made it happen.”

“Oh.” 

“I got the entire school board to agree to three houses.”

“Wonderful.” Draco wanted to vomit. “That’s the end of Slytherin, then.”

“It should be. Unfortunately, we’re talking about the founder who guiltlessly put a basilisk in the school.”

“I assume that was part of the argument for why his House should be closed.”

They stared at each other. Draco couldn’t remember ever having such a stilted conversation with Potter and almost wanted to insult his dead parents or drop the m-word just to get them back to familiar territory. The idea of provoking Potter the Auror was somewhat terrifying. 

Draco was about to blurt out whatever came to mind just to break the silence when Potter announced, “The castle is fighting back. Really nasty stuff, too. Several volunteers are actively stuck in the form of snakes. No one can figure out how to convince the castle to drop its defenses or turn them back into their original form. Hermione has a theory, and it’s probably right.”

“That Salazar Slytherin doesn’t want you to destroy his legacy? I don’t think you needed Hermione for that one, Potter.”

“Salazar Slytherin destroyed his legacy when he let only pure-bloods into his House.”

“And half-bloods who fudge the details,” Draco added unhelpfully.

Potter scowled at him. The action made him look more like his younger self than he had in ages. “We can’t get rid of Slytherin.”

“Blaise will be delighted.”

“And Slughorn refuses to come back and teach.”

“Oh, is he still alive? How wonderful.”

Potter’s eyes scanned his laboratory setup with sudden interest. “I had thought you did something in politics.”

“That’s very specific. I work for the Ministry. Is that what you mean? You also work for the Ministry.”

Potter frowned. “Look, Malfoy. Hogwarts is already short on professors. Most of the ones from before the War don’t want to come back. A few electives are just going to get cut, and some professors are offering to teach two courses until we find someone to fill the other positions. Figuring out what to do with Slytherin House is very low on my list of priorities. But it seems to be quite high on yours.”

“What? No.”

“You don’t even know what I’m suggesting yet.”

“Potter, you may be thick enough that you wouldn’t catch your hints if you were in my position, but I am not. I quite like my life the way that it is. I have no wish to make any changes whatsoever. If you need a Head of House, then I suggest reaching out to Blaise Zabini, who apparently does nothing all day but sit around and think about Slytherin.”

“I don’t trust Blaise Zabini.”

“Come on. He’s not really trying to sleep with your wife.”

“Wait, what?”

“What? Nothing. What did you say?”

“Blaise is trying to sleep with Ginny?”

“Who said that. Ginny? What? Who?”

Potter snorted. “Whatever. I didn’t trust Blaise before, and your defense did not help your case.” 

“Do you trust _me?”_ Draco asked disbelievingly. Blaise might not be the most honorable man in the world, but he was the best example of what Slytherin could create. He would be a good role model for all the little Slytherins.

“In a sense,” Potter said vaguely.

“In which sense?”

“In the sense where I can anticipate your actions and control your decisions. The only thing I really know about Blaise is that he very successfully schemes and manipulates those around him.”

Draco was taken aback. “Excuse me. Control my decisions?”

“Yes.” If Potter was afraid of coming across as rude, it did not show.

“Control this,” Draco said petulantly and shot him an offensive hand gesture.

“Did that make you feel better?”

“That is the most condescending comment I’ve ever received.”

“Doubt it.”

“Bugger off, Potter. I’m not doing it.”

“You are, though. I’m willing to humor any outbursts you want to get off your chest first.”

“Have you always been this condescending, or is it just since you got into politics?”

“Hah. So Potions and Head of House sound fine to you? We aren’t making Heads live in the castle if they don’t want to.”

“No, Potter, I’m not agreeing! I like my job! Your Granger put me here!”

“I’ve already spoken to Hermione. I think the Ministry can find someone else equipped to drink tea with disgruntled House-elves.”

“Yes, but I want to be the one drinking tea with those disgruntled Elves.”

“Blaise will be so pleased with you.”

“I don’t live my life based on what will please Blaise Zabini.”

“Really? You’d never guess.”

“Why does it have to be me? I can name ten other Slytherins who could take the job.”

“Could you really?”

“Oh! What about my mother? She needs something to do. I think it would be really good for her.”

“I really value what Narcissa did for me, but I trust her less than I trust Blaise. And she’s grieving, which makes her volatile. Next suggestion?”

“Millicent?”

“Fair. She is my favorite one of you lot. I also seem to remember her melting as many cauldrons as Seamus blew up, and I think that she’d refuse just for laughs if she thought the job would get forced on you instead.”

“The Slytherin Head of House does not also need to teach Potions. It was a random coincidence that both of ours did.”

“Next suggestion?”

“Millicent! Final answer!”

Potter took a step closer and put both his hands down on the desk, a sign that he was done humoring Draco’s arguments. Their faces were suddenly very close, and Draco could feel himself blush. He was overwhelmed by the age-old question of who he hated more: Harry Potter or himself? “Look, Malfoy. I want you for this position. What’s so bad about it? I would love to go back to Hogwarts.”

It took Draco a moment to remember who he was. The proximity was very disorienting, and he feared his voice had lost its bite when he stuttered out, “Excellent. You do it!” _I want you for this position._ Phwoar.

“I can’t just leave my job. Plus, it has to be a Slytherin. Malfoy, you’re doing it.”

“You sound awfully sure of yourself, Potter. Haven’t heard the word ‘no’ in four years?”

“It’s my son’s first word, actually. We’re very proud.”

“I’m going to give him all failing marks,” Draco said immaturely. “And so many detentions.”

“He’ll probably deserve them,” Potter said. “So you agree?”

“No! I was making a joke.”

“Hey, as long as you don’t secretly want to screw his mom, you can bully him as much as you want.”

Draco froze. “Oh. You’re making a joke.”

“I was trying to, yes. I felt really bad about it afterwards. Terrible, honestly.”

“You really should. It’s a thankless job, Potter.”

“So?” Potter prompted. “You agree?”

“What? No. Of course not.”

He inhaled and exhaled very slowly, and Draco made sure to commit the image to memory. _Phwoar._ “Malfoy, come on. Don’t make me say it. Just take the job.”

“There’s more? I had no idea you were holding back.”

“You owe me your life and your freedom.”

“You owe me _your_ life and _your_ freedom!”

“Well, my side won!”

“I am on your side, Harry Potter! It’s the reason why I’m not in Azkaban, so stop treating me like a suspect you’re interrogating!”

“You’re not in Azkaban because of my word, Malfoy! My word! That’s it! If I changed my mind, you would get shipped off tomorrow. I’ve been in your office for thirty minutes, and I haven’t once brought up the fact that the Goyles and Notts were both caught over a year ago in possession of Dark Artifacts that reek of Lucius Malfoy. Nott’s time turner prototype was in Malfoy gold, for Merlin’s sake. I’m not stupid. I don’t care if their sentences get extended a bit, but if you refuse me, more Aurors than you could even count will sweep Malfoy Manor, and they won’t stop until they find enough evidence to have you and your father locked away for good. So you’re going to do whatever I tell you to, okay? And I’m telling you that you are Slytherin’s new Head of House. You will teach Potions and report to me monthly on any potentially trouble students. It’s that or Azkaban, and I really want you to be there for the birth of your first child, Malfoy.”

Draco had been previously unable to put his finger on what exactly had changed in Harry Potter’s demeanor, but it was now so clear to him. It had always seemed strange to Draco that, after being hunted by a Dark Wizard for seven years, Potter would choose to dedicate his life to hunting them. Now Draco could see that Potter had no idea what else he could do. He was scared and angry and talented and revered. Without the anchor of Hogwarts and his Gryffindor trio, he was getting warped by the darkness necessary for his job. Potter himself seemed slightly stunned by his speech; Draco’s presence had made him regress enough to remember his Hogwarts self but still provoked the same righteous anger in Potter as any other Voldemort sympathizer. 

For a moment, they were both confused, then Draco said, in an icy voice, “Fine.”


	5. The Funeral (April 2004)

Scorpius never got to meet his grandfather. Lucius would have been released from Azkaban in May, and Draco had been struggling with how to explain to his nineteen-month-old child where his grandfather had been and why he was there. Astoria had pointed out, very fairly, that he didn’t actually need to explain anything to Scorpius because Scorpius was a baby and wouldn’t even remember that there had been nineteen months of his life in which Lucius was not present. Draco disagreed. Scorpius was smart and would know something was wrong. Astoria told him that he was, as usual, projecting his mixed feelings about his own father onto his son, who was definitely brilliant but also was pleased with and impressed by nearly everything he’d ever encountered. 

Lucius was never released from Azkaban, and Draco was correct that Scorpius could definitely tell something was wrong. It was his mother’s fault. Narcissa didn’t make it easy for Draco to obfuscate the truth by becoming nearly catatonic with grief. Scorpius informed Draco very seriously, as if Draco was not yet aware, “Grandma stare at plant,” and Draco had agreed and confirmed in his most stilted voice that grandma was, indeed, staring at plants.

Astoria had watched from the doorway and joined him afterward to whisper, “So you were going to have a frank conversation with him about Lucius’s crimes, huh?”

“He wouldn’t have understood, Astoria. He’s a child.”

Astoria snorted. “Don’t think I haven’t seen the notes you’ve written in your journal on how you’re going to deliver the ‘why daddy has a snake on his arm’ speech.”

“That one won’t be necessary for years. I just wanted to get started early.”

“Maybe wait until we get to know him more and can guess how he’ll react to different types of explanations?”

“‘Get to know him’? Astoria, he’s our son. We already know him. He learns new words everyday and loves slugs. He’s not going to settle for a weak explanation.”

“The slugs, do they relate?”

“Slugs relate to everything Scorpius does.”

Astoria kissed the top of his head. “Stop projecting your feelings on your son. When the time comes for the Death Eater talk, whenever that may be, he’s going to accept you. Like he accepts all the slugs.”

Draco frowned. “Don’t compare me to slugs.”

“Don’t set me up for it! And go check on your mother. Maybe get her to stop freaking Scorpius out. He’s going to internalize her grief.”

*

The official report on the cause of Lucius’s death came a few days later, signed off by the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Harry Potter. Draco had known there must be something suspect about the cause of death both because no one was supposed to die unintentionally in Azkaban and because they had received the pronouncement without any additional information. 

Draco had thought that maybe a guard was angry that Lucius was about to be released after everything he’d done during both of the wars. He was pretty close. The cause of death was, officially, strangulation. The explanation did not attribute the murder to a specific individual, guard or inmate, but Astoria provided him a newspaper a few hours later announcing that the sentences of at least five different Death Eaters had been extended up to twenty years, essentially a death sentence now that the Dementors were feeding on them again. The Death Eaters had allegedly been involved in a near-fatal beating and subsequent strangulation of another inmate.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Astoria asked quietly. Draco barely noticed her rubbing soothing circles on his back.

“No. I want to see Zabini.”

“Blaise? Why do you - oh, Draco, there’s no way Blaise was involved in this.”

“Isn’t there?” His voice was becoming shrill, almost hysterical. “Isn’t there a way? Isn’t this exactly what he told me he wanted at our wedding?”

“I’m not saying that it isn’t what Blaise wanted. I’m just saying there’s no way he was involved.”

“He was involved the moment he framed Death Eaters to get their sentences extended!”

“Draco, keep your voice down!” 

That got through to him immediately. He didn’t have anything else to say to Astoria anyway. He was seething with rage and hatred, and she didn’t do much more than watch him sadly as he grabbed a cloak and stormed out of the Manor. 

Daphne was the person to greet him at the door of the Zabini Estate, and Draco snapped, “Get out of here.” He was too focused on Blaise to acknowledge adequately that Daphne was looking just slightly more frail than she had the last time Draco had seen her. It wouldn’t have made sense even if he had properly absorbed the information; Astoria’s malediction was only flaring up at such a young age because of Scorpius. Daphne had decided not to have children for that very reason but didn’t seem better off for it.

She certainly didn’t look any different as she straightened her spine and demanded, “Excuse me? Who do you think you are? This is my house.”

“I want to see your husband.”

“He’s fine, Daph,” Blaise called. He sounded infuriatingly calm. “Give us a moment.”

Daphne scrutinized Draco. “Are you off your potions?”

“No, Daphne. My fucking father just died.”

“I know. We sent flowers. The funeral isn’t until tomorrow.”

“Daphne,” Blaise said. “Let me speak to him, please.”

Daphne rolled her eyes and stomped off, muttering, “Dramatic freak,” as she left.

Alone with Blaise, Draco could barely think of all the accusations that had been flapping around in his head moments ago. He just stared at him, breathing heavily as his rage giving way to pure betrayal and grief. Blaise spoke first, taking a step closer to him. “Draco, I’m very sorry for your loss, and I understand what you’re thinking. I saw the papers too. You have to know that I would never go this far.”

“But it is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Draco asked, regaining a little fury. “You wanted the Death Eaters taken care of, didn’t you? I bet you were pissing your pants thinking that Lucius was just months away from getting out.”

“Draco, be honest: Did you want him out? Did you want him around Scorpius? You were the person who said that the greatest flaw of Slytherin is the lack of good influences. Who knows what you would have been like without Lucius’s influence, and who knows what Scorpius would be like with it?”

“You’re manipulating me.”

“By saying the things that you’re thinking?”

“Yes! They’re my thoughts! Don’t use them against me to further your arguments!”

“I think you were pissing your pants at the idea of Lucius getting out. Astoria said you’ve been talking about how you would explain this to Scorpius for weeks. The fact is, Draco, that your life has been better without him, and Scorpius’s will be too.”

“What about my mother? She is overcome with grief!”

Blaise hesitated. “That is unfortunate.”

“Is that guilt I’m sensing? Because even if you didn’t orchestrate the attack, this is still your fault! They must have known that they were framed using my father’s possessions and resented him for getting out before him! That was your doing! You said everything would be fine, but it wasn’t, and my father was beaten to death by the fucking Goyles!”

“Better him than you, Draco! They were going to kill you when they got out. Now they never will.”

“They only wanted to kill me because of you, Blaise! This is all you!”

“Oh, no, it bloody isn’t, Draco. Every Death Eater alive hated you because you got off. They were going to get out of Azkaban with no prospects and no money, due to your support of reparations, and they were going to blame you.”

“That was also your fault!” Draco bellowed. “That was your idea!”

“It worked!” Blaise shouted back. He took a deep breath, trying not to rise to Draco’s volume. His voice was shaking as he said, “Goyle has hated you since the moment Crabbe died. Theo has hated you since you failed to kill Dumbledore. Everyone tried to throw your family to the wolves, and it didn’t work! Your family still escaped the least scathed of all of them, and Voldemort lived in your house! The reparations, the Dark Artifacts - all that did was give them slightly more motive to hate the Malfoys.”

“Motive that inspired them to kill my father, yes!”

“I didn’t want Lucius to die,” Blaise said evenly.

“Like that. You didn’t want Lucius to die like that.”

Blaise nodded. “I didn’t want Lucius to die like that. I didn’t want this for your mother. I was - I was prepared for Lucius to be released. I never had any intention of trying to extend his sentence.”

“But the other Death Eaters? Because it seems like my father’s death effectively dealt with the whole lot of them! That is what you wanted. You’ve always been open about that.”

“If you want me to be really honest, Draco, I was going to try to get them to violate parole. They are threats to your life or, worse, your reputation!”

“I never want to see you again. I was stupid to trust you. I want you out of my life.”

“Out of your life? Draco, I built your bloody life. I’m Scorpius’s uncle and godfather! You can’t just cut me out like this.”

“Don’t show up at the funeral. Don’t owl me. I never want to hear from you again. Daphne is welcome, because of her connection with Astoria.”

“Being sisters?” Blaise sneered. “Draco, you’re being histrionic.”

“No,” Draco said calmly. “I’m not. You’ve gotten what you want. I’ve gotten what I want. I don’t trust you and don’t want you around my family.”

Blaise shut his eyes while he thought this over. “Okay, Draco. Fine. You’ll never hear from me again.”

It had been Draco’s demand, but Blaise’s willingness to just accept it absolutely broke his heart. Draco debated momentarily diving into petty, personal insults like he would have if this had been, for example, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but that wasn’t Blaise. He wouldn’t rise to the bait. Draco would just look like a child.

“Bye, then,” Blaise prompted in what was, actually, one of the pettiest things Draco had ever heard him say, and Draco just sighed and nodded before exiting the building for what he truly believed would be his last time ever. 

*

They didn’t issue any invitations to the funeral. There was no one to invite. The idea of his father’s former business partners anywhere near the house was repulsive to Draco, and his mother didn’t leave the house enough to maintain any of her old friendships even if those friends still wanted to see her, which they likely didn’t. 

In truth, none of them left the Manor very much anymore. Astoria was active and in good humor most of the time, but her pregnancy had taken a lot out of her. The curse was spreading, and it was much easier for the three of them to stay at the Manor with Draco’s mother. She would tire easily, and her curse was just one of many things that Draco was dreading explaining to Scorpius when he got old enough to understand. Between Lucius’s incarceration and death, Draco’s mark, and Astoria’s curse, he was overwhelmed by these daunting conversations. There was one more conversation that Draco would need to have with Scorpius before he could start at Hogwarts, but fortunately Draco had a few more oblivious hours before he would be forced to realize the next trial.

Of course, Draco did go to work each day but would Floo back before dinner unless there was some skirmish involving Slytherins that he had to deal with, which there often was because Potter had been rightfully wary to let Slytherins back into Hogwarts. In a surprise change of events, the Slytherins were no longer the bullies, but it certainly could not be said that they accepted their treatment gracefully or even attempted to refrain from provoking their classmates.

He rather liked teaching at Hogwarts, far more than he would ever admit to Harry Potter. It did feel more isolating than his Ministry job even though he now taught hundreds of students. The other three Houses treated him with pure terror or scorn, and Draco quickly realized that he’d rather have his students be afraid of him. The Slytherins revered him as the Death Eater who got off, which made him even more uncomfortable. He didn’t interact much with the other professors and skipped almost every meal. Overall, given the social demands of his job, the Malfoys remained impressively reclusive.

Draco really didn’t expect any guests at all. The ceremony was simply to bury a body that he couldn’t even stand to look at in the small plot on the farthest edge of the Malfoy grounds. Scorpius didn’t understand what was happening other than being troubled by grandma’s behavior, and Astoria took him to the side to point out the fish in a koi pond. He would cast Narcissa the occasional worried look but remained with Astoria by the pond. 

The Flints arrived, as Draco ought to have expected, but his catastrophizing brain had convinced him that losing Blaise meant losing Millicent. He should have known that Millicent was above such in-group fighting, especially when a friend’s father had died. She and Marcus showed up with one twin strapped to each of their chests. 

Astoria referred to the twins as the Flintlets, and Draco, equally accurately, referred to them as the troll babies. They had both inherited more troll blood than even Marcus, although Draco couldn’t figure out how that had worked. Marcus’s troll relation had been a mean rumor, but his children confirmed the accuracy of the joke. Draco couldn’t help but smile whenever he looked at Matilda and Alwin, both a year younger than Scorpius, because they were truly the ugliest babies he had ever had the good fortune of seeing. Even Scorpius, who might not even have the ability to know that something was different about them, would stare at them in complete shock whenever they were around. He could have been scared except neither Draco nor Astoria could stop smiling when they were around, just at the sheer hilarity of Millicent having had troll babies. 

Then again, they were the only other children that Scorpius had ever met, which might make him surprised to realize that there were more of his kind, but that explanation made Draco sad. The explanation that even Scorpius could tell they were tiny trolls made him very happy, so Draco chose to believe that was the truth. Scorpius immediately fixated on the troll babies; they were both too young to appreciate his presence, but Millicent pulled Alwin (who was distinguishable by being slightly more troll-like than Matilda) from Marcus and joined Scorpius and Astoria by the lake. 

Marcus clapped Draco on the shoulder. “I never liked Blaise much anyway. Oh, and sorry about your dad.”

“Thank you, Marcus,” Draco said stiffly. “How are the - how are Matilda and Alwin?”

“They’re good. They take care of themselves, really. Eating everything in sight, but you know how that is. Babies - they eat rocks and bark and shit, but then they just digest it and poop it out.”

Draco raised his eyebrows. He couldn’t wait to tell Astoria that the troll babies could digest rocks and bark. He tried to contain his smile as he agreed, “Yeah, Scorpius too. Rocks and bark. Uh huh.”

“Millie got really angry at me recently because I accidentally let Alwin step on a rusty nail, but then he just pulled it out of his foot and ate it. No harm, no foul. Babies are virtually indestructible.”

Draco had to clamp a hand over his mouth, and still one single snigger escaped. Marcus looked sympathetic, misunderstanding the emotion that Draco was holding back, and said, “This funeral’s really getting to you, huh?”

“Yeah!” Draco agreed. He took a deep, steadying breath. “Yeah, it’s all very upsetting. I need to check on my mother if you - oh! Other guests. I’m just going to - yeah, you get it.”

There were tears in his eyes from suppressed laughter as he turned to greet the new arrivals. He was so distracted by Marcus’s revelations and how badly he wanted to report all of them to Astoria that it took him a moment to appreciate exactly how shocking this arrival was. Hermione was looking around the property warily, and Ron had his arm around his shoulder but was already craning his neck to get a better look at Scorpius and the troll babies.

“Is that Scorpius?” Ron asked by way of greeting. “Looks just like you. And I say, those mossy green boulders with him - are those children?”

“They’re Marcus and Millicent’s,” Draco whispered. “We haven’t told them yet, so don’t spoil it. I don’t know how they haven’t realized.”

His relationship with Hermione had improved tremendously during his few years at the Ministry, but there had been no communication whatsoever since he switched to his position at Hogwarts. She didn’t seem like she wanted to be there at all, and Draco couldn’t blame her. He couldn’t understand why she would ever come back, but it certainly wasn’t Ron who had decided that they would attend the funeral, although now that he’d gotten a good look at Alwin and Matilda, he seemed very glad that they’d decided to come. 

Hermione hesitated for just a moment then lurched forward and gave him a hug that Draco was too stunned to reciprocate before it had ended. She pulled back and looked at him with genuine concern that he really only ever received from his mother and Astoria. “Are you doing alright, all things considered?”

“We’re sorry for your loss,” Ron added. “Not sorry he’s dead, mind you. Important distinction there. We’re sorry about how you, specifically, are affected by what happened.”

“It’s good of you to clarify,” Draco said.

“You understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes, perfectly.”

“Alright then. I have got to go meet those two little monsters by the lake. I wish we’d brought Rosie now. She’s about Scorpius’s age from the looks of it.” He nudged Hermione. “I bet she’d have some great takes on the Flints.”

“Ron, don’t bully the troll infants.” She pursed her lips. “She would, though. I would love to know what she’d have to say.”

“What Hogwarts class will they be in?” Ron asked eagerly. 

“Year below Scorpius and Rose.”

“Bollocks. So close. Okay, I’m going to go investigate. You’re good here?”

“Yes, Ron, I’m fine. Be nice about the children while Millicent’s around.”

“I have tact, Hermione. I’m not just going to go marching up and say, ‘I want to see the trolls!’ Your lack of faith, it’s astounding.”

They kissed briefly, and Hermione seemed slightly more at ease after the light-hearted exchange. She smiled after Ron for a few seconds as he jogged over to join Astoria and Millicent. Draco watched them thoughtfully for a few moments longer as Ron knelt down and said something enthusiastically to Scorpius that made him smile widely and say something back. Ron held his hand out for a high five that appeared to confuse Scorpius, but he mirrored the action anyway but, rather than meeting Ron’s hand, smashed his palm into his nose. Ron made a big show of intentionally tumbling back, and they were both laughing as he sorted Scorpius out on the intricacies of the high five.

“He’s really good with children,” Hermione said finally. “Rose is beginning to realize he’s a dork.”

Draco nodded, slightly envious as Ron laughed easily with Scorpius. “I’m no good at those big pantomime jokes. I fear sometimes that I lack adequate whimsy.”

“Oh, wow. I can’t believe that is a sentence that anyone has said, much less you.”

“I’d put money on Percy, wouldn’t you?”

Hermione snorted. “I forgot you’d know him from work. You should meet his girl, Lucy - staggering amount of whimsy. She virtually lives at Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. I suspect that Ron will soon be out of a job.”

“Because she’ll take it from him, or because the store will get shut down for letting small children near dangerous inventions?”

Hermione smiled. “Could be either, but will certainly be one.” 

Draco grinned back, and she turned her attention to assess Scorpius from a distance. He knew Scorpius was brilliant in all senses of the word, but Hermione Granger’s approval would really mean everything. She squinted thoughtfully as Scorpius spoke with Ron in what appeared to be a very serious conversation indeed except that occasionally Ron’s lips would twitch upwards. “He seems to be doing well. Really verbal.”

“Really verbal,” Draco agreed proudly. “He doesn’t babble at all anymore and has started to have a grasp of basic syntax.”

“Wow.” Hermione seemed not just approving but impressed. Draco knew Scorpius was the best. Theory confirmed. “Rosie knows over fifty words. I asked my parents how much I knew at her age, and they said they couldn’t remember! Can you believe that?”

“I - which part? How do you count how many words they know? Am I supposed to be doing that?” Draco tried to run through a list of words he’d heard Scorpius use. Fifty didn’t seem like a lot, but Scorpius would be a few months older than Rose Granger-Weasley. Draco would have to start keeping a running list. 

“No, I think it’s just to make sure they’re hitting developmental milestones at the proper times. We’re going to stop, but I do think it will be really sweet for her to have a list of all her first words! It shows what’s important to her, you know? Her first was ‘daddy’, then ‘bloody’, because Ronald would just sit on the floor and stare at her in complete awe and say, ‘bloody hell, Hermione, look at what she’s doing now!’ whenever she did anything at all, including breathing.”

“That’s a very good impression of him.”

“That’s why he’s switched to ‘I say’, if you picked up on that.”

“It did seem a little strange, actually. Makes complete sense now.”

“And Scorpius’s?”

“Scorpius’s what? Oh, um, ‘mummy’, and then I think it was ‘book’.”

Hermione’s face fell. “I wish Rose’s first words were ‘mummy’ and ‘book’!”

“Are they in the first forty?”

“Yes, they’re in the first forty,” she said sulkily. “Hugo, he’s going to be all me. He’s with his grandparents right now, but you can tell he’s brilliant. They’re both brilliant. Rose even did some accidental magic the other day! George and Ron were showing her this new toy that was whirring around on the floor, and she didn’t like it and just made it stop moving! Just like that. It was amazing.”

Draco got the sense that this was supposed to be a comparison session, so he informed her, “Once I put gel in Scorpius’s hair, and he just sort of shook his head until it was all back to normal. That was the only time I was present for, but Astoria said he made the bubbles explode during his bath once.”

“That’s amazing!” Hermione cried. “They’re both very young for that level of development, you know. I don’t want to alarm Ron, but I think we might be dealing with some Ravenclaws. We should set up a play date when they’re ready for parallel play! Harry has been so - nevermind. I would love for Rose and Scorpius to be friends. It’s important for children to have friends who are - I think Rose and Scorpius will get along well.”

Draco’s eyebrows raised, but he asked no questions about Rose’s cousin who was, by Draco’s estimations, only a few months younger than her. They were interrupted by Ron jogging back over and saying, “Hermione, you’ve got to come meet these kids. The infants, pure troll. Scorpius, complete delight. No bloody way the rumors are true.”

“Ron!” Hermione hissed. 

Draco frowned. “The rumors that they’re part troll? They’re definitely true.”

“No, the rumors that - Hermione, you said you were going to tell him!”

“I hadn’t gotten there yet,” Hermione whispered. “We were discussing parallel play.”

“Oh, parallel play. Yeah. Of course. Can’t miss that.”

Draco’s heart thumped in his chest as he said, “What rumors?”

“You know, Hermione, there may be such a thing as too much tact. We came here to tell him!” Ron put his hand on Draco’s shoulder and stared him straight in the eye. “We heard a rumor going around some Ministry employees that Scorpius is actually Voldemort’s son. Don’t know where it originated, don’t know if anyone actually believes it. I think people just think it’s weird they haven’t met him yet.”

“Why would I introduce random Ministry workers to my toddler?” Draco asked blankly. “Do they think they deserve to have met him? And Voldemort died in 1998. Scorpius was conceived in 2002. He’s not secretly six years old.”

“I believe the rumor is that Astoria had trouble getting pregnant and used a time turner to go back to get pregnant with Voldemort’s baby,” Hermione said regretfully. “Because she’s so sick, and then when Lucius died, people thought maybe that time turner that was found at the Notts… to them, it makes sense.”

“If Astoria couldn’t get pregnant, why would a different man help?” Draco asked slowly, because picking apart the logic of the rumor was much easier than considering how this was going to affect Scorpius’s life before he even knew who Voldemort was.

“We’re not saying it’s a particularly logical rumor,” Ron told him. “If anything, you’re lucky it’s so incredibly stupid that no one worth a damn would pay attention to it. Someone tried to bring it to Harry at the DMLE, and he told them where to shove it, so you’ve got that. The Aurors will never investigate him.”

Draco’s eyes widened because, if people were trying to get Harry Potter involved, they must actually believe Scorpius could be Voldemort’s son. “Is the Department of Magical Law Enforcement going to refute the rumors?”

Hermione looked very sympathetic. “Harry thinks the worst thing to do is give attention to false rumors.”

“I’m sorry, what? When has Harry Potter’s good word ever been a bad thing for my family?”

“He’s convinced it will blow over.”

“If I bring my son out to introduce him to every gossipmonger out there?” Draco demanded.

“He’s a wonderful kid,” said Ron. “Might help.”

Draco took a few calming breaths before he remembered who he was and to whom he was speaking and said, “I really appreciate you coming here to tell me this.”

Hermione frowned. “Of course, Draco. We don’t believe it at all, obviously. Logical fallacies aside, we know you. And now we know Scorpius.”

“Only I met him, but through the power of our hive mind, we are both able to make this judgment call,” Ron said, completely straight-faced. He craned his neck again, for once not focusing on the Flint children, and said “Blo - I say, look who it is.”

“Aunt Hermione! Uncle Ron!” A boy of around six years old hurtled across the grounds to run into Hermione’s arms. He was skinny but average in height and had bright blue hair that darkened to black as he peeked past Hermione to examine the burial. Draco’s jaw dropped as he started down at the child who could only be Teddy Lupin. If he wasn’t here with his godfather, Harry Potter, then he had to be here with his grandmother. 

Draco looked back the way Teddy had come to find a tall, imposing, dark-haired woman, so similar to Bellatrix that he felt his skin prickle with goosebumps. She looked past Draco without a moment of attention to seek out Narcissa, who had been joined by Astoria in an attempt to make her conversation with Marcus Flint less terrible. Astoria gave Narcissa a polite touch and nodded towards Andromeda Tonks. 

Narcissa gasped, her face blank with shock, and then Andromeda rushed to her and pulled her into a tight, protective hug. Narcissa broke down almost instantaneously, sobs racking her body so strenuously that she quickly collapsed to the ground. Andromeda followed her down, still holding her close to her chest and stroking her hair as she cried and murmured things to Narcissa that Draco didn’t deserve to hear. 

Teddy Lupin pulled back from Hermione to watch his grandmother in a state of great alarm like he intended to rush towards her and rescue her from whatever was making her so upset. Hermione had tears in her eyes as she knelt down in front of Teddy and took his hands. She brushed a lock of black hair behind his ear and whispered, “She’s okay. She’s happy. Sometimes people can be so happy that they look sad. Did your grandmother explain to you why you’re here today?” Teddy cast Andromeda and Narcissa a long look then, when he was sure that the situation was under control as Hermione claimed it was, nodded seriously. Inexplicably, his hair sprouted from his head and fell into long, white-blonde sheets like Narcissa’s. 

Scorpius seemed equally shaken, although more terrified than alarmed as if whatever was attacking Narcissa would come for him next. Assessing the situation and deciding that Astoria was too close to the Black sisters to be considered safe territory, he stood up and walked carefully over to Draco, who joined him at face level and pulled him into a hug. 

“Grandma was quiet and is crying,” Scorpius told him. He liked to give Draco objective reports of the situation going on in front of him, and it never failed to bring a smile to his face. “She is not bleeding and did not have a bad dream. I will tell her to stop crying?”

Hermione looked away to stare at Scorpius, clearly astounded by his eloquence. Scorpius extended his hand for a high five and said, “Hello.”

She high fived him back. “Hello, Scorpius.”

She shot Ron a quick look, and he mouthed, “I know.”

“Grandma hadn’t seen her sister in a long time,” Draco informed Scorpius with the same kind of earnest gravity Scorpius brought to every occasion. “Now grandma has lost something very important, but she has her sister back. It is sad and happy - bittersweet.”

“Bittersweet,” Scorpius repeated dutifully and suggested, “Finding spell. To find things that are lost.”

“It’s not that kind of thing,” Draco said regretfully.

Scorpius frowned. “I find? I lose things in pond.”

“In  _ the _ pond,” Draco corrected. 

“I lose things in the pond. Always the pond.” He had a somewhat long-suffering look as he admitted this, which made all three of the adults smile in spite of the general topic of the conversation.

Teddy transitioned from hugging Hermione to hugging Ron, and Draco could have sworn he heard Ron murmur something along the lines of, “I preferred when we had no one to compare her to but Al,” and Hermione gushed, “He’s already done magic too!” before Ron was monopolized by Teddy, who seemed adequately assured that his caretaker was fine and now wanted to fill Ron in on every funny thing that he had seen since he last saw Ron, which was, presumably, two days ago for Easter dinner. He chattered to Ron without stopping to take a breath, absent-mindedly playing with his long blonde hair like the mermaid in the prefect’s bathroom.

Hermione sat down cross-legged in front of Scorpius, and Draco shifted to sit down opposite her. She looked at Scorpius intensely as if she was about to give him a full assessment before he asked, “What is your name?”

“I’m Hermione,” she said. “Her - my -”

“Her - my - oh - nee,” Scorpius finished for her. “Hermione. Scor - pee -us.” He pointed at Draco. “Dah-dee.” He pointed at Ron. “Ron. We-uh-sley.”

“Weasley,” Hermione corrected. “You are very smart.”

“Yes. Dad said.”

Hermione beamed at him. “What kind of fish are in your pond?”

“Fat ones,” Scorpius told her. He puffed up his cheeks to illustrate exactly how fat the fish were and then blew it all out the moment Astoria joined the five of them. Narcissa and Andromeda were now speaking privately, and Marcus had returned to help Millicent with the troll babies. She joined them on the grass, and Scorpius fell into her arms immediately. 

She kissed the top of his head and asked, “How are you doing, sweetheart?”

“I met Ron and Her-my-oh-nee.”

“They’re wonderful, aren’t they? And did you meet Teddy?”

Teddy looked up at the sound of his name. “I’m Teddy!” He extended a hand like he was about to offer a handshake then pointed the hand erratically at Draco, Scorpius, and Astoria without shaking anyone’s hand. Astoria smiled at Draco over the top of Teddy’s head. Draco smiled back weakly and was struck with the oddest thought that he wanted to let Astoria enjoy the funeral before ruining it for her with unwanted information.

*

“Excuse me,” Astoria said after Draco had recounted the entire story to her once Scorpius was down for the night. She was already furious, which Draco found relieving although he didn’t much want Astoria to have to deal with this any more than he did Scorpius. “What? Where would that type of rumor even come from?”

Draco began to explain the entire situation again, and Astoria waved her hand at him to shut him up. “No, that is so absurd. How can we possibly disprove a rumor that’s based on no logic? I didn’t think Voldemort was even human enough to make a bloody kid! Do people think I shagged him? ‘Oh, Draco and Astoria stay inside a lot. I know what makes sense! She buggered the bloody Dark Lord who died six years ago!’ Is that it? That’s the whole basis of a rumor that could destroy our son’s life?”

“I think everything that happened with Lucius and Nott being caught with a time turner contributed pretty heavily.”

“Time turner prototype! I was under the impression that it didn’t actually work?”

“No, it did. It was just glitchy. It certainly wouldn’t have accomplished what they’re claiming we did but might have eventually evolved into something that could one day.”

“And what about the way that Scorpius looks exactly like you? What’s their answer for that?”

“I guess the first answer would be that none of them have ever seen Scorpius. And then the second would be that we’re wizards and can change his appearance at will.”

Astoria glared at him. “You’re not being helpful.”

“If you want to win a debate, you need to understand the other side’s argument.” Draco sighed. “Andromeda said that Muggles have a way to test for paternity but that it’s so untested for wizards that anyone would just argue that we’d used magic to tamper with the result.”

Astoria flapped her hands at him wildly. He was unaccustomed to seeing her so completely enraged. He couldn’t think of another example that even came close to this level of indignation. It made him feel very understood, like they were part of a team against a rumor that would affect their son far more than it would affect either of them. On the other hand, two irrational, wounded outcasts didn’t make a particularly effective team. “Okay. Andromeda. Excellent. Make  _ her _ tell Potter to refute the allegations publicly. Hell, make her make Teddy-fucking-Lupin do it. Let’s see him refuse Teddy Lupin. Let’s see him refuse literally anyone other than us!”

Draco blinked. Was this what he sounded like all the time? In an attempt to alleviate stress, he said, “It’s so fucking unfair. Our kid is clearly the best one too! I mean, Millicent’s kids are quite literally trolls. Marcus told me Alwin stepped on and then ate a rusty nail! Teddy Lupin - spaz. Hermione was clearly impressed by Scorpius, which means he’s at least as smart as Rose, and you should have heard her and Ron try to act like Albus Severus Potter isn’t a total dud. James is - well, even at Hogwarts, people are talking about how exceptional James is, but considering his last name, I’m pretty sure that translates to average. And the world is fucking inundated with Weasleys! Everytime I check the paper, there’s a new bloody Weasley. My whole class in seven years will be Weasleys. Knut a dozen. Why can’t one of them be the Dark Lord?”

The plan had worked. Astoria took a deep breath, then her lip twitched tellingly. “I’m sorry - the Flintlet stepped on a nail then ate it?”

“Full troll,” Draco said solemnly.

She frowned. “She said Albus Severus Potter was a dud? That really doesn’t sound like Hermione.”

“No, but you could tell.” Draco paused. “Oh, okay, here’s a plan: We spread the rumor that Harry’s Voldemort connection went into Albus Severus so Albus Severus is actually the new Voldemort. Not Scorpius. Problem solved! No one is going to be looking for two different Voldemorts. We just need to make the better case. Rita would definitely help fuel the rumor.”

Astoria looked disappointed. “Come on, Draco. He’s a child.”

“Scorpius is a child! Plus, it wouldn’t actually affect him. Potter will refute the allegations immediately if it’s Albus Severus. If we ask Blaise, he could - oh.” Draco fell silent. The plan had been pretty cruel anyway, and no one was going to believe Harry Potter was raising Voldemort’s son. Maybe if Blaise was around to manipulate the story, but without him, Draco would just be bullying an infant. 

Astoria smiled at him sadly. “I don’t want anyone to say these horrible things about Scorpius - or, honestly, about me - but we can’t do that at the price of another child suffering.”

“He’s a bloody Potter, Astoria! He’s not ever going to suffer! Scorpius has enough to deal with from just the father he actually does have.”

“Draco, no.”

Draco ran a hand through his hair anxiously. She was right, of course. In a way, though, he was also right. Draco’s suggestion was the wrong thing to do, morally speaking, but was probably the only plan they could make that stood an actual chance of working. “So what are we going to do to put the rumor to rest? I don’t particularly want to invite an investigation of my family. Are the only two options rumors or complete transparency?”

“The thing about complete transparency is that people have to believe you’re being completely transparent, which they never would. So, in a sense, no. Our only option is rumors.” Astoria buried her face in her hands. “My head is throbbing. I just need some sleep, and then we’ll figure it out.”

Draco nodded quickly. “It’ll be fine. It’s such a - the rumor is ridiculous. It makes no sense. It’ll go away on its own.”

She extended a hand, and he stood up to help her to her feet. She swayed for a moment as she collected her balance, and he held her shoulders until he was confident that she could stand on her own. When he took a step away, she rested a hand on the table and squeezed her eyes shut in frustration. Draco hovered hesitantly as she took a few shaky steps then rushed forward to grab her by the waist before she crumpled.

Astoria nuzzled her face into his chest in a way that she must have subconsciously borrowed from Scorpius when he would cry inconsolably. Or, Draco now realized, perhaps Scorpius had inherited it from her without Draco ever having been able to make the connection. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Astoria cry before and, as she shook silently in his arms, felt just as confused and helpless as he did after Scorpius had hurt himself or woken up from a nightmare.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” Astoria said in a thick, watery voice then tried to laugh before dissolving back into helpless trembling.

“It’s okay,” Draco assured her. “It’s all - everything is going to be okay.”

He was lying, and they both knew it. The rumors about Scorpius weren’t okay. The malediction that was beating Astoria wasn’t okay. In a single day, Draco had lost both his father and Blaise and was left with nothing to push him in the right direction other than his unavailing desire to protect Scorpius and Astoria. He wrapped his arms around her tighter, focusing on how he didn’t want her to see the terror and uncertainty on his face, and the flames on all the candles in the kitchen burst then went out without either of them reaching for their wands. 


	6. Albus Severus Potter (August 2011)

As the years passed and Draco had more time to grow accustomed to his return to Hogwarts, he really did come to enjoy most aspects of the job. He loved Potions, which was supposedly the most important thing when one was a Potions Master. He wished he had more time to experiment with the academia side of the subject as he had in the Beast Division at the Ministry but could still find great enjoyment in teaching. 

The small part of him that never stopped worshipping his deceased godfather appreciated that he had Severus’s old job. It must have been very lonely, Draco realized, to have lived and taught in the warmth of Hogwarts with so little love in his own life, to be so feared and despised by his own students whom he sought to help. Draco, on the other hand, had more love and companionship than he ever had anticipated for himself. Scorpius became only more wonderful with age to the point that, while he knew there was no chance that he was Voldemort’s son, he really struggled sometimes to believe that he could have contributed to his creation. Between his own family and Millicent’s extended troll clan, Draco had more than enough love to truly enjoy his student’s terror. 

He wished Severus could have enjoyed it too. Neither Draco nor Severus had been especially respected as students at Hogwarts, although Draco did acknowledge that Severus had actually deserved respect as a student while Draco decidedly had not, but apparently all one had to do was put on the long black Potions Master robes, and students would piss their pants as he entered a room. It was incredible. Draco loved being loved, but he really loved being feared. One day, he was going to be some hapless student’s boggart. He absolutely could not wait. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t like his students. He quite liked a lot of them. Especially when he was first starting out, there were always a few bold sixth and seventh years who actually tried to _get to know him._ It had done wonders for his ego, although Astoria had later told him that his ego needed to stay somewhat damaged at all times for him to be a tolerable person. She had said this after Draco had relayed the story from his first year of an especially ridiculous Slytherin girl claiming that she couldn’t smell Amortentia over the smell of the potions lab and all of her friends giggling like absolute maniacs. At least one student would make the same kind of joke every year, and Draco discovered many new and horrifying ways to have his scent described to him before Astoria had said, “Just cut Amortentia from the curriculum for sixth years! Why is it still on the curriculum? You’re almost thirty!”

Those weren’t his favorite students though. Those ones were mostly just silly anecdotes whom he couldn’t actually look in the eye. His favorites also weren’t the talented ones who excelled at each assignment, the ones he’d look at and think, “I’d scoop them up if I were Slughorn.” His favorites certainly weren’t the pure-blooded or well-connected ones, to whom he attempted to show as little favoritism as possible even if they were members of his own House. Draco’s absolute favorite students were the clever ones with low self-esteem, the ones for whom he could actually make a tangible difference on their performance at school. The first of these students, Iwan Byrne, was the first Muggle-born to be sorted into Draco’s House. 

Draco adored Iwan. He was so clever and amazed by everything around him, and it had frustrated Draco to no end when he saw the looks of concern on the other professor’s faces as the boy was sorted into Slytherin. The Slytherins, to their credit, were more stunned than they were dismissive. The war had forced the blood purists underground, but they still existed, and they were all still in Slytherin. This meant that the biggest threat to a Muggle-born student would be the privacy of the Slytherin common room. He discussed the issue with the prefects and came down hard on the first students to bring it up with Iwan, and the situation resolved itself quickly. The long-term solution, as far as Draco could see, was to help Iwan be better at magic than any of the people who would threaten him. Iwan actually realized this without Draco’s help, practically moved into the library for the first month of school, and emerged knowing more about the Wizarding World than any of the pure-bloods. Hermione Granger would have been proud.

The social part of the job remained rather difficult for him. The rumors of Scorpius’s birth were not going away - quite the opposite. Draco could pinpoint the day when he’d walked through Hogwarts and everyone’s looks were slightly shiftier than usual. He hadn’t connected much with any of his fellow professors yet and didn’t see that changing in the future. Neville Longbottom, whom everyone fully expected to become Headmaster when McGonagall retired in a couple centuries, had started at the same time as Draco and had made it clear that, as long as Draco didn’t give him any trouble, he would not give Draco any trouble. He was also the only professor to articulate to him that the rumors were obviously complete horseshit. The only professor who still openly loathed him, Alicia Spinnett, had taken over for Transfiguration. Draco couldn’t blame her and didn’t make even the smallest gesture to apologize. He considered avoiding meals to show his respect for her desire to keep her distance. 

He did quite like the interim DADA professor. A very old ex-Auror, she had made it clear that she’d seen so much worse than Draco that nothing he was accused of fazed her in the slightest. They even worked together occasionally. She had a knack for sifting through information for any content of value and, when she’d learned that he was fairly accomplished at both Legilimency and Occlumency, had all but demanded he join her for some classes on the subject in addition to offering private lessons to older students who got permission from their parents. 

She never intended to stay long, and while Draco was somewhat surprised that she’d even made it nine years, he was still deeply disappointed when she announced her retirement. He was called into McGonagall’s office on the same day of the announcement, and Draco wondered for a second if he was about to be offered the Defense Against the Dark Arts post. The jinx was gone, but the post remained unpopular. Draco wasn’t sure if he’d want it. He was just so influenced by Snape’s role in his position that DADA felt like a natural upgrade from Potions.

It took him all of one second after walking into the Headmistress’s office to realize who would be taking the position and then another few seconds to internalize that it wouldn’t be Draco.

Potter looked away from his amicable conversation with Professor McGonagall to survey Draco carefully. He blinked, although Draco wasn’t sure how one could distinguish it from a wink with the eye patch. Draco stared at Harry Potter in absolute horror, taking in every way in which he looked awful. He must have gotten into a pretty serious fight recently because all the wounds were fresh. There was a large gash across his cheek and another peeking out from robes over his clavicle. Draco found the sight very upsetting and wanted to make sure he was okay, but because this was Harry Potter, he simply said, “Oh, hello, Alastor. I thought you’d died.”

Potter scowled and turned back to Professor McGonagall. “What is he doing here?”

She raised an eyebrow. “He teaches here, Potter. On your recommendation, I might add. Take a seat, Professor Malfoy.” Draco obeyed immediately. “I have called you here to discuss the possibility of the two of you working here together in a productive environment.”

“Working here?” Draco asked. “Together?”

“Yes, Malfoy. Here, together,” Professor McGonagall snapped. “As you both have been functioning adults with jobs and families for some time, I’m sure that you are both easily mature enough to handle working in the same place. But I thought I should check.”

“Longbottom and I didn’t have to have this conversation,” Draco pointed out. A thought struck him, and his eyes lit up. “You don’t think I’m the problem!”

“I don’t think Professor Longbottom is the problem,” McGonagall said dryly.

Draco frowned. “And to be clear, if I said, ‘No, I can’t work with Harry Potter,’ which one of us gets to keep the job here?”

Potter rolled his eye. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Look at him, Professor! He’ll scare the children!”

“The eye’s going to heal. Pull up your sleeve, Malfoy. Let’s see which one of us scares the children.”

“Very clever, Dead-Eyed Moody. We all know you’re a Death Eater Polyjuicing as an Auror.”

“We all know you’re just a Death Eater Polyjuicing as… who is just… a Death Eater.”

“Eloquent as always, Potter. I truly envy the developing brains that will get to sit and listen to you speak for hours a week. ‘So, _er,_ today, _er,_ we’re going to practice disarming.’”

“Malfoy.”

“‘I know we’ve studied it for the last five classes, but it’s really important, so-’”

“I’m the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement! I’ve learned other spells! You should learn other insults, because my track record with disarming is pretty good.” Potter paused. “You’re welcome to join us for my Patronus class, Malfoy. I’ve heard you still struggle with that one.”

“Not since Scorpius was born, actually. I apologize for forgetting the other spell you do.”

Potter actually grinned. “You got it? What’s the form?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“It’s a ferret, isn’t it?”

“It’s not a ferret.”

“You got a ferret. I know it.”

“It’s an armadillo! A very respectable animal.”

Potter roared with laughter. “That’s perfect. I love magic.”

Professor McGonagall was regarding them with a worried expression. “This is you two having a friendly conversation as adults?”

Draco realized he was smiling, and Potter was actually laughing, but he could see how, from an outside perspective, this might not come across as a pleasant conversation. Draco’s smile froze in an unpleasant grimace as Potter stole the opportunity to be the bigger man and said, “I can work with him.”

“I can work with him too,” Draco said quickly after, worried he’d just lost a competition. “Although as he pointed out, he is the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, so I would imagine he’s somewhat pressed for time.”

“I’m quitting.”

Draco seized the opening. “Why? Who bloodied you up so bad?”

Potter didn’t respond, and Draco pressed, “Someone made you fear for your life so bad that you’re quitting to be safe for your children. Right? I’m right, aren’t I? Very sweet. Very honorable. There’s always desk work. I don’t see any other Ministry department heads going out in the field. That was your choice. And when a child says they want their dad around, they don’t mean full time at their boarding school.”

McGonagall cleared her throat to nip this provocation in the bud, which seriously annoyed Draco because he simply wanted to know what had harmed or scared Harry Potter so badly that he felt he couldn’t work in Magical Law Enforcement. The question was innocent enough, but apparently McGonagall found his interest to be distasteful. “I would also like to discuss with you your progeny. It is not unheard of for staff to have children at Hogwarts, but for the two of you in your positions to have children in the same year… I think we would do best to set strict limitations. For example, you will not be able to give your children points.”

Draco nodded. That seemed fair. “Okay, so we just take them from their enemies?”

Potter gestured towards Draco to signal that they were, for once, on the same page. “And give them to their mates, yeah.”

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips. “It is very important that you treat your children as you do everyone else. You’ll quickly find that any favoritism harms them just as much if not more than it helps them.”

Draco had struggled with this idea already because it didn’t take a genius to see that Scorpius was clearly more Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw than he was Slytherin. Scorpius was open, honest, intelligent, inquisitive, and just so painfully earnest in a way that showed none of the Slytherin manipulative abilities. Draco was aware there was even a small threat that Scorpius might end up in Gryffindor. Astoria had pointed this out to him when Draco had made the mistake of referring to their son as a follower. She had told him, with utmost conviction, that if Scorpius had ever been forced to choose between the Dark Mark and death, even at age eight, he would surely choose death. He wasn’t a leader either. He didn’t fit into any molds, but considering his last name, the rumors of his birth, and his eccentricities, Draco predicted severe isolation for Scorpius at school. 

This meant that Draco needed Scorpius to be in the one House where he could protect him - Slytherin. It was a conversation they would have with the Voldemort talk. They had already had the Death Eater talk, and it had gone as well as Draco could have hoped in that Scorpius still loved him. Scorpius had been completely silent for Draco’s whole speech, in which he gave roughly the account in his testimony with some gritty details described only as “bad things.” When Draco was done, Scorpius had run off, effectively breaking Draco’s heart, and returned minutes later with a list of titles of books relating to the war. He’d asked if Draco would get them for him as he’d wanted them for a while but could tell Draco didn’t like thinking about the war. Draco had agreed, and then Scorpius had pressed further to ask for a transcript of his testimony, which Draco had promised he would give him when he was older. 

Draco had shared this with Astoria later. She had put a hand to her heart as if this was adorable and agreed that he was probably doomed to being a social outcast even if he was, to her, so perfect that she couldn’t believe he was real at times. 

The books hadn’t turned Scorpius against him, but they had awoken a nasty passion for Harry Potter that persisted to the present. Scorpius loved him. He’d read every book on Harry and could even make shockingly accurate, almost personal claims like, “I don’t think Harry Potter likes having books written about him,” even though he was reading the books written about him. Scorpius would be beyond excited if Potter taught at Hogwarts, Draco realized, which meant that of course Draco had to be completely supportive of the decision.

The point remained that Scorpius was kind and innocent, and Draco was going to need to show him a certain amount of favoritism to make sure he survived. He would kill anyone who might take that goodness away from him, make him hate himself or warp him into a cold Malfoy man just by treating him like he already was one.

Potter, on the other hand, wouldn’t need to show his kids any favoritism. They had the Potter name; the world would show them favoritism. Teddy Lupin had been in Hufflepuff for three years now and was already, just by association, receiving the Potter treatment. It helped that Teddy Lupin was wonderful - clever, thoughtful, funny, and warm. He was one of Draco’s favorites and seemed to like Draco too based on the way that he still occasionally intimated Narcissa’s hair in Potions class (even though Potions was, by far, the worst class in which to have long, free-flowing locks).

Draco had wondered, rather horribly, if there was something to this “orphan” style of parenting before appreciating that both Harry and Teddy’s magnetism were due to Harry’s own intrinsic strengths. Voldemort was an orphan. Maybe he would have turned out better if he’d also been exposed to Harry Potter from a young age. It was a nature versus nurture argument, and Draco’s son was living proof that nature did not define a person.

So Potter was able to easily agree, “No favoritism,” while Draco simply nodded uncontrollably, half of his brain still pondering how he could make sure that Scorpius would end up in Slytherin.

Professor McGonagall, in the end, seemed reasonably assured of their ability to work together. Potter was officially a Hogwarts professor. Draco, too, was a Hogwarts professor. He thought perhaps he might start eating meals with the professors, then his stomach twisted up to warn him that he would never want to eat again.

“I think we can do this,” Draco said awkwardly before the two of them parted ways.

“We’re adults,” Potter said with conviction. “We’ve got this.”

“The Gryffindor-Slytherin relationship is a very tenuous balance. They can’t have professors modeling the arguments for them.”

“No arguments,” Potter agreed. “I think I can do it.”

“Really? Were you not just in that office with me?”

“You started that argument!”

“Did I?”

“Honestly, I barely remember anything about it. What did you call me? Dead-Eyed Moody?”

“I was really proud of that one! I’d been working on it in my head for at least a minute. What did happen to you?”

Potter grinned wryly. “Read the papers. There are plenty of theories.”

“Do they all think you’re a werewolf now?”

Potter’s spine stiffened for a moment, then he said, “A fair amount.”

Draco’s eyes widened. “Are you a werewolf? You have to tell me. I’ll be the one brewing your wolfsbane, so I’ll find out.”

“No, I’m not a werewolf, and I wouldn’t come to you for wolfsbane if I was.”

Draco scowled. He really wanted to know what happened. “I’ll figure it out eventually.”

“There’s just a time when you want to be sure you’ll always be around for your kids.”

“Yeah, when they’re born.” Draco almost smiled. “Who hurt you?”

“Urgh,” said Potter. “I’m leaving. I’ll see you when classes start.”

“The arguments,” Draco called after him without really thinking. “They aren’t so bad anymore, are they?”

Potter turned around, continuing to walk backwards. He scrunched up his nose a little. “No, I think I like them, but we’re role models now. Tenuous balance of Gryffindor and Slytherin. I’ll see you around, Malfoy.”

He walked away, leaving Draco to figuratively die and fume with hate at a target he couldn’t quite identify.

*

He worried that he would perhaps never not be obsessed with Harry Potter. It was a fate only slightly better than death. Draco couldn’t see any light at the tunnel. Potter continued to be a feat of nature. He doubted he would ever move past this, but it did happen eventually. It was a slow process, but eventually his perception changed. The hero worship, that would never go away, but the pesky feelings that made Draco want to destroy the whole world did fade.

The reason was Scorpius's budding friendship with Albus Severus Potter. From the moment they met, they had a connection that made Draco doubt any emotion he’d ever had. Albus Severus’s father seemed stunned by the extent of their immediate bond; the boy had, after all, entered Draco’s office sulking and only minutes later was smiling at Scorpius like he, as Draco and Astoria had often proclaimed, couldn’t believe he was real. Scorpius, unlike Albus Severus, loved everything he encountered, but he loved it like an observer, curious but ultimately removed from the situation. He treated Albus Severus differently, and it had taken Draco much unpacking with Astoria before he realized that Scorpius’s friendship with Albus Severus was the first thing that was ever really Scorpius’s. He loved figures from books and creatures out of his grasp, but Albus Severus was his best friend, and no one had given him to Scorpius. They had found each other and decided for themselves.

Their first meeting was arranged, but neither Draco nor Harry intended it to evolve the way it had. Harry had approached Draco out of necessity one day during the first few weeks of Harry’s employment at Hogwarts. Until that point, they had mostly ignored each other, which was considered to be a great success on their part. Draco was taken off guard when a knock on his door signified the arrival of Harry Potter.

He strode purposefully across the office and took a seat without invitation. Draco was somewhat surprised he didn’t ask for Draco’s seat with the way he acted like he owned the place. “I need a favor.”

“Oh? Well, let me rearrange my life around it.”

Potter ignored the sass. Draco was beginning to realize that, underneath the general confidence that Potter exuded when he did anything these days, he seemed rather flustered. “Your son - he’s about the same age as Albus, right?”

“Scorpius? He has a name, Potter.”

 _“Scorpius_ is going to be in Al’s year, yes?”

“You know he is.”

“And Scorpius has - “ Potter was beginning to look distinctly uncomfortable “- he’s shown his magic already, has he?”

“He - Potter, Scorpius is nine years old. He has _control_ over his magic already. Why are you asking me this? Don’t you have an older child for reference?”

“Well, yes, but James is exceptional.”

“And Granger-Weasley? She’s about the same age. Let me guess: Also exceptional?”

“I don’t really want to discuss this with Ron and Hermione.”

Draco studied him closely. He wondered if this request might relate to the fact that Hermione had never actually reached out to set up a playdate for Scorpius and Rose. He had been frustrated for a time but ultimately moved past it because he never really expected Scorpius to become friends with the Granger-Weasley girl. He was now thinking back on the sparse comments from the day that had led him to proclaim to Astoria that Albus Severus was a dud. Hermione and Ron had seemed, even with their children at such a young age, concerned that Potter had felt threatened by something. Understanding dawned, and smugness followed soon after. “Albus Severus hasn’t done any magic yet.”

Potter couldn’t meet his eyes. “Not… not that I’ve witnessed, no.”

His lip curled. “So you wanted to consult with my _unexceptional_ child for reference? Scorpius has been showing magic since he was _two years old._ Between you, your wife, and your three children, I think you know when involuntary magic tends to pop up in children. Have you tried - Merlin, I don’t know, the Malfoys have never produced a Squib - testing him somehow?”

“I have,” Harry whispered guiltily. “I - well, mine showed up when my aunt shaved my head.”

“God’s work, that was.”

“Stuff it. She shaved it, and it grew back overnight. So I…”

“Shaved your son’s head?”

Potter groaned and buried his head in his hands. “It didn’t grow back. Ginny was pretty upset.”

“That’s reasonable.”

“I felt so - I remember Neville telling me how traumatic it was the way his uncle used to scare him, trying to make him do some magic. I don’t want to do that to Albus.”

“And when did Longbottom end up showing?”

“Pretty old,” Potter conceded. “Late enough that they were worried he wouldn’t get into Hogwarts. Nine, maybe? His uncle dropped him out a window, and he bounced.”

“His uncle - out a window, you say? Well. Which unc - doesn’t matter. He turned out fine! He killed Nagini, although I guess using a sword doesn’t suggest great magical prowess, does it? And herbology is really just botany. Hm. The point stands: Neville is still technically a wizard.”

“I wouldn’t be upset if he were a Squib. I just need to know.”

“Really? You seem to care quite a bit.”

“I just want him to be safe and happy. Right now, we’re in this horrible limbo. If he can’t use magic to defend himself, then I need to know so I can get him started with muggle studies. He’s going to need to embrace a muggle lifestyle, and surrounding him with only magic will just make him feel worse than he already does.”

“Defend himself? That’s what this is about? He’s eight years old. Are you going to put a muggle gun in his hands?”

Potter was disgusted by the question when really Draco thought he should be impressed that he knew what a gun was. Actually, perhaps that was more alarming than impressive. “Of course not, but is that any less safe than a wand?”

“A gun is a wand that can only do the Killing Curse, so if you anticipated your child firing off Killing Curses like Thorfinn Rowle, I suppose not. Albus is a child. Merlin, Potter. Law enforcement really did a number on you, huh?”

“I didn’t actually come here for your advice.”

“Oh, what a surprise. Here I thought you were going to listen to me. What do you want then?”

“I was wondering if maybe… well, I personally would like to bring in a qualified person to observe him, but Ginny would murder me, and I can’t involve Ron and Hermione, so I thought maybe he could… play with Scorpius. See if anything changes with someone else observing him. You might notice something that we don’t see.”

Draco held up a finger to stop him. “Give me a moment. I’m trying to decide if you’re a worse husband or father.”

“That’s not a funny joke.”

“It wasn’t a joke.”

“I think that maybe a peer could do more to coax it out of him. Don’t you think? Is this a bad idea?”

“A bad - yes, Potter, this is a rubbish idea. And what do you expect me to tell Scorpius? ‘I need you to test to see if Harry Potter’s child is a Squib’?”

“Just tell him it’s a playdate! And ask him to talk to Al about magic. Maybe he’s even done some that I haven’t seen!”

“Po - Harry, I don’t think this is a great idea.”

“It’s two children playing together. What is the risk?”

“That’s - you are the man who wants to give your toddler a gun, correct?”

“He’s eight, and I’m not going to give him a gun.”

“Look, I just haven’t - Scorpius hasn’t really spent much time around peers, and we haven’t exactly had the talk yet.”

“I repeat: he’s eight.”

“Not that - are you being intentionally obtuse? I mean… he’s a big reader, so he knows. Of course he knows. About the war. But I don’t think he quite understands the extent of my involvement, and I haven’t yet had the heart to tell him about the rumors circulating his birth. I don’t want him to hear about them from another child.”

“Oh, Albus doesn’t know anything about that. If that’s your only objection, then you needn’t worry.”

“It’s not my only objection. Merely my primary one. As I said, Scorpius hasn’t spent much time around peers. I don’t want his first - what did you call it? - ‘playdate’ to be a clinical observation of some child he’ll never see again.”

Potter changed gears in an act of desperation, appealing to Scorpius’s clear lack of peers (other than the troll twins, who were together worth a hundred Albus Severus Potters). “They’ll be in the same year at Hogwarts. We both work here. They should meet! They’ll have loads in common.”

“I don’t really have the option of saying no, do I?”

“Malfoy, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to force you to do anything involving your child. I would appreciate it if you would do this favor for me. I can promise you that Albus will not be coming in with any preconceived notions about the Malfoys. I know Scorpius comes to work with you sometimes. Wouldn’t it be good for him to make a friend?”

Draco sighed and nodded. “Okay, fine, let’s introduce them. I’m not going to observe your son’s playtime, but I’ll let you know if I notice anything. Sounds good?”

Potter grinned at him. “Yeah, perfect. I’ll bring him by on Monday.”

*

“Harry Potter?” Scorpius shouted in unrestrained excitement. He was practically bouncing off the walls. The news of Harry Potter’s employment had actually stressed him out more than it delighted him, and he was now terrified that his chance to go to Hogwarts would be ripped away from him somehow before he got to be taught by Harry Potter, but the assurance that he would get to meet Harry Potter in a matter of days had eliminated the anxiety. “He’s my third favorite historical figure, first in the category of still alive!”

“Harry Potter’s son, yes.”

“Albus Severus Potter?”

“Yes.”

Scorpius clapped his hands. “This is amazing! One step closer to ghostwriting his autobiography, dad!”

Draco scrunched up his nose. “Is that a dream of yours?”

“Yes. I decided on it a week ago! When I was reading Magical Me! Remember?”

“Gilderoy Lockhart didn’t use a ghostwriter.”

Scorpius looked up at him doubtfully. “That’s the sign of a brilliant ghostwriter that you think that, dad.”

Draco frowned. “I thought writing was his whole gift?”

It was almost funny to see his nine-year-old son regard him like he was truly daft about a man that Draco had met. “No, dad, his smile was his gift. He was a fraud with a ghostwriter, and he did it brilliantly.”

“I - yes, probably. You shouldn’t grill Albus on his dad though. You have the rest of your life to ghostwrite Harry Potter’s autobiography.”

Scorpius beamed at him. “I can’t wait! When am I going to meet him?”

“He’ll be by in an hour, Scorpius, but I need to talk to you first.”

“Sure! That’s what we’re doing right now! I am perfectly willing to continue doing it!”

Draco knelt down in front of him and reached into his sleeve to extract his wand. He held it out to Scorpius, who regarded it with a look of utter amazement and made no moves to take it from Draco. “When you two go off and play, I want you to pretend that you stole my wand from me, okay? And then the two of you can do whatever you want with it.”

Scorpius gaped at him. “I would never steal your wand!”

“Albus doesn’t know that though. He’ll think you’ve… done it to impress him.”

“But I would _never_ steal your wand,” Scorpius repeated in a hushed, scandalized voice. “He’s going to think I’m a wand stealer! It’s a violation of the reasonable restriction of underage sorcery! A Potter is not going to want to be friends with someone who steals wands and violates the reasonable restriction of underage sorcery!”

Draco was quiet as the irony of that statement sank in. “I don’t know how historically accurate these Harry Potter books you’re reading are.”

*

Scorpius was a generally excitable child. He was eager to experience even the most mundane activities, so Draco was fully expecting him to be bouncing off the walls as he waited to meet the son of his favorite historical figure, category: still alive. Instead, he sat cross-legged on the floor in front of Draco’s bookshelf and attempted to focus on reading. Draco looked up intermittently from grading papers to study his reactions. The only signs that he was bursting with excitement were his shaking hands and erratic eye motions across the page. 

Scorpius had been delighted when Draco had bought him ‘a real-life muggle book’, which Astoria had claimed was supposed to be the best piece of children’s literature ever written. Unfortunately, Scorpius had adored the book and quickly discovered that it was accompanied by an entire trilogy aimed for a more mature audience. As Draco had no idea what constituted mature muggle entertainment, he had been forced by his own parental concern to read the series first. Now he had read one and a half books about a bunch of short, hairy people walking around the countryside and occasionally meeting up with a wizard who reminded Draco way too much of Albus Dumbledore. Scorpius was going to love it. Draco did not.

Both their heads jerked up at the sound of footsteps and soft voices outside Draco’s office. Scorpius shot Draco a terrified look then focused on the sound of a young boy whining, “I don’t see why I couldn’t go watch the Harpies practice with James and Lily.”

“Because you don’t like Quidditch,” Harry answered calmly. “You’ll have fun.”

“I don’t even know him!”

“Well, you’ll never know a person until you meet them, will you?”

“I know enough people, dad. Our family is already too big. I can’t even remember some of my cousins’ names.”

“That’s - we should work on that, Al. Look, Professor Malfoy is going to teach you, and his son is going to be in your year. You’ll be happier if you know people going in.”

Draco extended a hand, and Scorpius leaned forward to pass him back his wand without needing to be asked. Draco shot a wordless silencing charm at the door and handed it back to Scorpius. He smiled at his son weakly. “He sounds great.”

“I think so too!” Scorpius agreed, and Draco was struck by the oddest realization that Scorpius wasn’t lying. He turned back to his third reread of The Hobbit since Draco had read it aloud to him. His hands were shaking as they turned the pages, but he didn’t glance up at the door again.

Finally, a knock came on Draco’s door, and Scorpius fumbled the book so that it flew several feet in the air, bounced off his fingertips, and landed on the ground with a thud. He grabbed it and gave Draco a thumbs up, and Draco nodded in bewilderment before calling, “Come in.”

It was common knowledge that Albus Severus Potter was the spitting image of his dad. Draco knew this to be true. He had seen Potter’s family in the papers before. He was still shocked by the visceral memories that came rushing back to him as he set eyes on a boy who, other than the conspicuous lack of scar and glasses, looked exactly like the Harry Potter that Draco had met in Madam Malkin’s at age eleven. It said something about Harry’s retrospectively glaring malnutrition that Albus was three years younger than he had been but was still similarly scrawny.

Scorpius dropped his book again and scrambled to his feet, pushing himself up off the floor. He extended a hand to Albus, thought better of it, checked to see if his hand was visibly dirty, decided it was fine, extended it halfway, and then retracted it and let his arms hang awkwardly at his sides. His gaze flew from Albus to Harry and back again, clearly undecided about whom to greet first.

Albus watched Scorpius with the same kind of intrigued yet bewildered expression that Draco often had when he looked at his son. Harry had a somewhat disbelieving half-smile on his face, and when his eyes flicked up to meet Draco’s, Draco was sure that whatever he had expected from the Malfoy heir was very far from the truth. Draco was certain that Potter was drafting a report for Ginny, Ron, and Hermione in his head. He looked back down at Scorpius and said, in a surprisingly warm voice, “Hi, Scorpius. I’m Professor Potter, and this is Al.”

Scorpius stuck his hand out again to Albus. “Hi, Scorpius! I mean, I’m Scorpius. You’re Al. Albus. I’m Scorpius. Hi.”

Albus hesitated for a moment, and Draco felt a horrible lurch in his stomach as he imagined this little Potter spurning Scorpius, calling him the wrong sort, then Albus shook his hand, and both Harry and Draco looked noticeably relieved. “You’re Albus,” he said. It took Draco a moment to realize he was making a joke.

“Okay! I am! Great!” said Scorpius, who might not have understood the joke but had no qualms with taking Albus’s statement at face value. 

“Thanks for looking after him for me,” Harry told Draco in an effortless lie. “I should be in this meeting for at least an hour, and I’ll come grab him after. Send an armadillo if you need anything.”

Draco resisted the urge to sneer at Potter’s subtle mockery of his Patronus. He had to set a good example for Albus and Scorpius. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

Albus pulled his hand away and looked up at his dad. Harry smiled down at him and said, “I’ll see you soon, Al. Tell Mr. Malfoy if you need anything, okay?”

“Professor Malfoy,” Scorpius corrected him quickly.

“Oh, er, yes. Professor Malfoy.”

“Normally I’m a big fan of alliteration, but Mr. Malfoy - it doesn’t really flow, does it, dad?” Scorpius frowned. “Oh no. I’m going to need to get a title if I want to avoid it, aren’t I?”

“You have - time to figure that out, Scorpius,” Draco assured him. “We’ll take good care of him, Potter.”

“Professor Potter,” Scorpius corrected again. “That’s - that one is a good example of alliteration. Mr. Potter also works too, though, I think. That’s good for job flexibility.”

Harry stared at him for a second, completely at a loss, then said, “Thank you, Scorpius,” before kissing the top of Albus’s head and leaving the office.

“Dad, is ‘Messr’ pronounced the way it’s spelled? Or does it have a - what’s the opposite of a silent letter? When a letter isn’t in the word but you make the sound anyway? A vocal letter? Does it have a vocal ‘t’? Because that would work too. Messr. With Malfoy. Right?”

“There’s no ‘vocal t’,” Draco assured him. Scorpius was a blurter when he felt anxious. Draco had not yet figured out the most effective way of cutting him off without seeming dismissive, so he just settled for treating it like a totally natural and socially appropriate response.

“That works then! I don’t know if you’re supposed to use its singular form, but you and me - together - we can be Messrs Malfoy. Messrs Malfoys. No. First one.” Scorpius abruptly switched gears and beamed at Albus, who was downright boggling at Scorpius now. At Scorpius’s shift in attention, he smiled hesitantly but seemed generally unable to figure out what to make of him. “Do you read, Albus? Al. Albus?”

“I can read,” Albus said, bristling like he thought Scorpius’s innocuous question was an insult. “My parents send us to muggle-style primary school.”

If Scorpius noticed Albus sounded defensive, he did not let on. “Oh, wow! Really? So you’ve used pencils? What are they like? How do you make the pencil grow more dry ink when it wears down?”

Albus gave this question a great deal of thought. “I just get a new one.”

Scorpius lowered his voice and said, “I’ve heard that there’s more dry ink hidden inside the pencil core if you can figure out how to get to it.”

“You remind me of my grandpa,” Albus informed him.

“Wow! I’ve always wanted to meet a grandfather! Not mine, but one!”

Albus was staring at Scorpius with an expression of utter incredulity, and Draco personally would have been deeply offended to receive such a look, but Scorpius took it in stride. It was a look Scorpius had received and would continue to receive a great deal, even from his parents. He shot Draco a quick look, and Draco saw his hand brush against the spot where he knew Scorpius had hidden his wand in the waistband of his trousers. He focused on Albus once more. “Have you been around Hogwarts before?”

“No, my dad just started here. He got hurt, and my mum got upset. He had an eyepatch.”

“Wow! Over which eye?”

“Left.”

“You’d never guess,” Scorpius gushed. “Your eyes are just like his - had you noticed? Did you have an eyepatch too?”

“I’ve heard,” Albus confirmed darkly. “The eyepatch oozed. It was gross.”

That was gross. Draco looked between the two of them as they spoke, wondering if he had ever been so awkward. He certainly had. He had just never been so completely earnest. Scorpius looked over at him again. “Can we go explore? Do you want to explore, Al? Do you prefer Al or Albus?”

Albus, once again, gave this a great deal of thought before deciding, “Albus.”

“You can explore,” Draco said with fake hesitance. “Just stay close and be back in an hour.” 

Scorpius looked at Albus questioningly, and Albus agreed, “Yeah, okay.” He seemed nervous at the idea of leaving the office but followed Scorpius out without protest. He paused in the door and spun around to look at Draco. “Oh! I’m Albus, by the way. Hi.”

Scorpius laughed, and Draco said, “Professor Malfoy. Great to meet you, Albus.”

*

“These are the dungeons,” Scorpius said as they began their tour of the castle. “Except it’s actually on the same level as Hufflepuff basement, so my dad said calling them dungeons is a propaganda term, but no one is willing to switch to Slytherin basement.”

“What is a propaganda term?” Albus asked as he examined the dim dungeon/basement corridor with great interest.

“It’s when you use a word that has a specific connotation when you could just use a different word with no connotation attached.”

“Connotation?”

“Like when a word evokes a certain feeling or image that isn’t necessarily part of the definition.”

Albus was silent for a long time then said, “Okay, we’ll do this one last time: evoke?”

“To bring up. A word brings up a certain feeling or image.”

Albus smiled nervously. “Alright, got it.”

“Great! Excellent! I really like words. I have a journal full of them. My favorite right now is ersatz, but crepuscular has been making big wins lately.”

Albus looked relieved. “Oh! Ersatz! Like the elevator. You read A Series of Unfortunate Events?”

Scorpius gasped. “No! What is that?”

“It’s a muggle book,” Albus told him. “My aunt Audrey bought them for us. I thought it was a nonsense word like in Doctor Seuss.”

Scorpius could barely contain himself and certainly could not modulate his volume. “WHAT IS A DOCTOR SEUSS?”

Albus cringed away then laughed. “A muggle writer.”

“I’ll ask my dad for them! He bought me a muggle book last month. He bought me more but hasn’t given them to me yet because he has to read them first.”

Albus looked at him thoughtfully and smiled. “You’ve already read them though, right?”

“Of course I have. But don’t tell him that. Have you read a lot of muggle books?”

“My aunts Hermione and Audrey are both Muggleborns and prefer muggle children books. Aunt Hermione said because wizards grow up with magic, they lack the whimsy needed for children’s literature.” Albus shrugged. “You can borrow ours.”

“I would love to borrow your muggle books, Albus,” Scorpius said emphatically. “I would really, really love that.”

Albus smiled again. “Okay.”

Scorpius stopped in front of the door to his dad’s lab. “This is my dad’s lab. Have you ever seen a potions lab?”

Albus shook his head solemnly.

“Are you squeamish?”

He shook his head again.

“Great! I don’t like being in the halls when the students are around. They all stare at me weirdly because I’m a child and because of my dad.”

Albus looked at him understandingly and said, “Then let’s go in.”

Scorpius tried the door. It was locked. He pulled on it for a moment then swallowed nervously and pulled out his dad’s wand. Albus’s jaw dropped as Scorpius tapped it to the door and said, _“Alohomora.”_

The door clicked open, and Scorpius opened it for Albus, who seemed entirely distracted by the wand in Scorpius’s hand. Scorpius gestured for him to get inside, and Albus obeyed but didn’t spare a single glance at the lab itself. “How’d you get a wand?”

“I nicked it off my dad,” Scorpius lied.

Albus studied Scorpius’s face. “No, you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t,” Scorpius agreed, caving immediately. “My dad gives it to me sometimes when I go off by myself.”

Albus frowned. It looked like he was retreating in on himself, and Scorpius wasn’t sure what to do to prevent that from happening. Scorpius looked at him helplessly, waiting to take his cue off Albus. Finally, Albus mumbled, “I do know why my dad brought me here.”

“To make friends?” Scorpius asked hopefully. He really wanted Albus to be his friend. He wanted his muggle books and felt like he’d already known him for a very long time.

“My dad thinks I’m a Squib,” Albus whispered, maneuvering himself onto one of the stools. “Do you know what that is?”

“Yeah, some of my favorite writers are Squibs! I think they have more whimsy, like your aunt Hermione said!”

Albus scrunched up his face. “You really haven’t figured out why our parents set this up?”

“I take most things people tell me at face value.”

“My mum and dad were arguing a lot about my dad trying to figure out if I can do magic or not, so he asked your dad to do the investigating for him.” Albus gestured at the wand. “Obviously.”

Scorpius was horrified. “But that’s terrible! How’d you find out about that?”

“I heard them.”

Scorpius lowered his voice. “They let you overhear them?”

“No, I can - I can hear things, sometimes, when I’m not there. Like when people say my name, I just tune into the conversation.”

“Oh,” Scorpius said. “You’re a Legilimens!” _Has he already heard how badly I want him to be my friend? Does he think I’m weird? Will he still give me his books even if he does think I’m weird?_

“No, not thoughts. It’s like… have you ever used an extendable ear?”

“No, I’m not allowed in Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, but I got one of their catalogues once! They’re brilliant. Did you know I’ve met Ron Weasley before?”

“I - he’s my uncle,” Albus said, apparently confused about why anyone would be excited to meet Ron Weasley when he must see him on at least a weekly basis. “It’s more like - when people mention me by name in a conversation, sometimes I’ll start to hear the conversation no matter where they are.”

“Oh, wow,” said Scorpius. “That sounds awful. Do you like that? I don’t think I’d like that. But that’s magic! That’s really impressive magic, too, I’ve never heard of that before! You should tell your dad.”

“I don’t like it,” Albus said icily. “Who would like that? If people have nice things to say, then they say it to your face.”

Scorpius felt his lips twisting down and was concerned that he was about to start sympathy crying, which would certainly scare Albus away from him. He thought that maybe he should give him a hug because he looked a little shivery, but that would also likely scare him away, so Scorpius said, “I’ll say nice things behind your back. Do you want to make a potion?”

He did wonder later why, if Albus knew his parents were fighting over a nonissue, he didn’t just admit that he’d already done magic to stop them from fighting. The more Scorpius thought about it, though, he could see Albus’s side. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to hear his father stressing out about him for months or years then admit, ‘I’ve heard everything you’ve ever said about me.’ It would probably shatter his dad, and Albus was going to do other magic eventually.

“You don’t have to do that. I’m used to hearing what people think about me.”

Scorpius paused. “But I don’t have any bad things to say? My dad taught me how to make this potion that makes a reflective surface.”

Albus seemed taken aback but hopped off his stool to join Scorpius in front of the ingredients, finally examining them with some interest. “Is that all it does?” 

“Why would it have to do more than that?” Scorpius reached up to grab some morning dew and howlet’s wing. “If I give you a boost, can you get some Seine water for our base?”

He looked back at Albus, who was watching him with a perplexed look. When Scorpius met his eye, he smiled widely and said, “Yeah, sure. I can probably just climb on the counter by myself.”

Scorpius watched nervously as Albus climbed up without any trouble and reached up to the top shelf. He really didn’t want to return Harry Potter’s son to him broken. Albus grabbed the flask easily and, against all Potions regulations ever written, held the mouth of it in between his teeth as he climbed back down. He pulled it out of his mouth and wiped it off on his shirt while Scorpius roared with laughter and Albus kept shooting him pleased looks. 

Scorpius set up the cauldron and lined up all the ingredients in the order that they’d need them. He pulled out his dad’s wand and pointed it at the burner before hesitating and turning back to Albus. “Do you want to light the fire?”

“Why?” Albus asked sharply.

Scorpius shrugged. “Thought you might want to. My dad’s wand doesn’t like me very much anyway, so you might do a better job. Have you held a wand before?”

“Yeah,” Albus admitted. “Both of my parents', and Teddy’s, but I didn’t feel anything with any of them.”

“It’ll be better when it’s yours.” Scorpius held out his dad’s wand. “Try it anyway. First time I tried my dad’s wand, I almost burnt down our boathouse. He really, really did not like it, and my mother said I’m not supposed to do fire spells anymore.”

Albus raised an eyebrow. “And do you have a plan for when I accidentally blow up Hogwarts?”

Scorpius raised a finger for Albus to wait and rushed over to a small cupboard behind his father’s desk, emerging with a cumbersome muggle fire extinguisher. He held it up for Albus’s inspection. “Our contingency plan.”

Albus recoiled. “Why does your dad have that?”

“I really don’t know. My dad bought a ton of them when I started doing accidental magic, but it seems weird because it’s the absolute only muggle thing we own other than my copy of The Hobbit.”

“That is weird,” Albus agreed. “Okay, fine, I guess. If you promise your muggle fire extinguisher can put out the fire I create, I’ll try it.”

“It definitely can! I used to start fires almost every time I tried to do magic!”

Albus paused. “Well, that’s probably why he bought you fire extinguishers, Scorpius. Mystery solved.”

Scorpius tried not to show how delighted he was to hear Albus say his name, but Albus smiled at him as if it was written all over his face. He reached out to accept the wand from Scorpius, and Scorpius handed it over to him.

The moment Albus’s fingers closed around the wand, he almost dropped it in surprise. The lights in the lab flickered, and a wind rushed through them. Ingredients were knocked over, and Scorpius caught the jar of morning dew before it hit the ground and returned it carefully to the table. Albus gaped down at the wand, and Scorpius said, “It likes you more than it likes me.”

“I’ve never had a wand do that before!”

“They’re unique to the wizard, but some people can use others with more affinity. My mum’s works pretty well for me, but my dad’s simply wants nothing to do with me.”

“Probably because you set all those fires,” Albus said wisely.

Scorpius smacked his shoulder into Albus’s. “The fires happened because the wand didn’t like me. Go on, try then. _Incendio._ You’ve got it.”

Albus opened his mouth to say the spell then shut it again. “Do we really think fire is really the safest first thing for me to try?”

Scorpius looked him over and understood how Albus had guessed (or known) that Scorpius had already read the Lord of the Rings trilogy or would never steal his father’s wand. Scorpius smiled slowly and told Albus, “You don’t really care.”

“No, I don’t,” Albus agreed. Scorpius held up the fire extinguisher in case the spell misfired horribly. Albus pointed Scorpius’s dad’s wand at the burner and said, _“Incendio.”_

Albus gasped and dropped the wand as fire shot out of its tip and lit the burner. All lab tables and ingredient bottles were fire-proofed, which was crucial as Albus’s spell had basically exploded out over the entire table then died back down with only the burner remaining lit. Scorpius clapped his hands and bent down to retrieve the wand before either of them accidentally stomped on it. His dad’s wand had survived a lot, and he’d feel awful if it finally met its end because Scorpius or Albus accidentally trod on it. 

“You did it!” Scorpius said cheerfully. “Alright, so we’re going to use Seine water for the base. You dump that in, and I’ll lower the flame. Team, break!”

Scorpius was genuinely very excited for Albus and would like to shower him in praise, but he got the impression that it would make Albus feel more embarrassed than honored. It would probably be really funny to see him get flushed and awkward, but Scorpius didn’t have to be the one to do that. Albus gave him a bemused look like he had expected a much bigger deal to be made about his first spell ever then smiled to himself and nodded. 

*

It was a very simple potion to make, but Scorpius still considered it to be a rousing success. Albus had been amused to see that the potion really didn’t do anything other than make a reflective surface and had suggested that they try drinking it before Scorpius said, without looking at a clock, “Look at the time! We’ve got to get back!”

It had apparently been more than an hour by the time they got back because Harry Potter was already in Scorpius’s dad’s office by the time Scorpius and Albus arrived, out of breath and giggling. Albus grabbed his arm to slow them down, and Scorpius peeked through the ajar door. The two adults were talking in low voices, and a large, old piece of parchment that Scorpius didn’t recognize was spread over Scorpius’s dad’s desk. Scorpius’s dad was saying something like, “All of sixth year? Are you fucking serious?” and Harry Potter glanced down and said, “Wait, sh!” while slamming his finger down somewhere on the parchment. 

Harry Potter pointed his wand at the paper and whispered something, and Scorpius’s dad rolled his eyes before they both tried to look innocent. Scorpius nudged Albus, and both of their dads pretended to look surprised when they entered the room.

Harry Potter walked around the desk to meet Albus and pull him into a tight hug. “Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah, I had a really good day,” Albus said in a muffled voice, sounding so much more enthusiastic than when he’d arrived at Scorpius’s dad’s office. “We made a potion in Professor Malfoy’s lab that was really just a mirror.”

Harry Potter snorted. “If you’re going to break into parts of the castle, you probably shouldn’t admit it so readily.”

“Astounding Hogwarts survival advice from Professor Harry Potter,” Scorpius’s dad whispered to no one in particular. He met Scorpius’s gaze, and Scorpius gave him a quick thumbs up while Albus was preoccupied with his father. Scorpius’s dad beamed at him and nodded.

Albus pulled back from the hug to ask his dad, “So when am I coming back? I said I would bring Scorpius some of our muggle books. Did you know ersatz is a real word?”

Scorpius’s dad frowned at Scorpius. “I have muggle books for you!”

“It’s taking you forever to read them!”

“Scorpius, truly, there is only so much I can read about hobbits walking from one place to another. Occasionally they meet new people-things to join them on their walk, but really. You’re not missing much.”

“I’ll wait for a long time, dad, but I won’t wait forever!”

Albus burst out laughing, and Harry Potter looked down at his son so fondly that Scorpius’s image of Harry Potter as the most incredible wizard and person that ever lived was cemented forevermore in his brain. Scorpius thought back on Albus whining to his dad about being forced to meet new people and wondered which version of Albus he was most accustomed to seeing. When Harry Potter looked over Albus’s head to catch Scorpius’s dad’s eye, Scorpius’s dad gave him a thumbs up and nod of his own, and Albus’s dad’s smile became even more dazzling as he glanced back down at Albus.

“You can - I’m fine with you coming back,” Harry Potter said. “Draco?”

Scorpius’s dad looked over at Scorpius, who nodded eagerly. “Fine by me.”

“Alright, great,” said Harry Potter, apparently surprised to be saying it. Scorpius’s dad seemed equally surprised and offered Albus’s dad a bewildered shrug. “I’m glad that this was such a success. I’ll stop by your office on Monday, alright, Draco?”

“Great!” said Scorpius. “He’ll be there.”

“I’ll be there,” his dad echoed. He craned his neck to look over at Albus. “Bye, Albus. Great to meet you.”

“Bye, Professor Malfoy,” said Albus. He looked towards Scorpius and made a clumsy movement like he was considering hugging him then thought better of it. Both of their dads watched him with acute interest as he set his jaw and nodded to Scorpius instead. “Bye.”

“Bye, Albus,” Scorpius said enthusiastically, wishing Albus hadn’t decided that he didn’t want to hug. He’d never had a friend hug him. His only friends his own age were Alwin and Matilda Flint, and he was pretty sure they’d crack a few of his ribs if they ever tried to hug him (which they never would). 

Albus led Harry Potter out of the room quickly like he’d decided that he couldn't stand being there a moment longer. Scorpius returned his dad’s wand a second later and gushed, “He was amazing, wasn’t he? They were both amazing!” as his dad threw up a silencing charm in case Harry and Albus decided to unpack the afternoon while within earshot of the office.

“Yes,” said his dad less enthusiastically. “Yes, if you think so, sure. You’re sure he did magic, are you? It wasn’t just yours misattributed?”

“No, it was definitely him!” Scorpius said quickly. “Your wand really liked him!”

“Did it?” his father asked dryly. “What did he do?”

“Does it matter?”

His dad’s eyebrows creased thoughtfully. “No, I suppose it doesn't. You really did enjoy your afternoon?”

Scorpius settled down in his usual spot on the floor by his dad’s desk and retrieved his copy of The Hobbit. He examined the cover for a moment before admitting, “It was the best day.”

His dad’s lip quirked, and he reached inside his desk to pull out a copy of The Fellowship of the Ring. He tossed it to Scorpius and said, “Here. Go wild. Parent-approved.”

Scorpius caught it and grinned down at the book. “I’ve actually already read it.”

His dad’s eyebrows shot up. “Did you really?”

“Yeah,” Scorpius confessed. “I’ve read all three. I found them in your desk at home. Are you mad?”

His dad smiled and shook his head. “No, I just wouldn’t have expected it. It’s not a problem. Do you want me to get you Albus’s ersatz book?”

Scorpius squeezed The Fellowship of the Ring very tightly and bit back a grin. “No, I want his copy.”


	7. Slytherins (September 2013)

Gryffindor, to Draco’s great delight, lost its first Potter. James Sirius Potter had appeared in the Great Hall bursting with a confidence that stood stark against the backdrop of the other shy and envious first years. He’d beamed around the room as the other students were sorted. His attention would jump around erratically, mesmerized by the ceiling for moments at a time then abruptly seeking the eyes of Harry, Neville, or Teddy or ruffling his bright red hair and smiling consolingly at his more nervous classmates. 

All signs had pointed to James Sirius Potter being an absolutely insufferable student, but Draco had been hopeful that perhaps Harry Potter would be disappointed by his erroneous sorting. Unfortunately, James’s father had seemed, if anything, more pleased that James didn’t seek to be Harry Potter’s popular Gryffindor son (and was satisfied instead to be just Harry Potter’s popular son). Besides, the Potter-Weasley mantra wasn’t “only Gryffindor” as much as it was “anything other than Slytherin.” They already had Teddy Lupin in Hufflepuff and Victoire Weasley in Ravenclaw; at the time of James’s sorting, there was actually not yet a single member of the extended Weasley clan sorted into Gryffindor. 

James had sat down with the hat and immediately said, loud enough for everyone to hear him, “Look, I don’t like you, and you don’t like me, but I’m going to be a Hufflepuff, okay?”

While the room reacted with varying levels of entertainment and disbelief, and the Hufflepuffs proudly puffed their chests out at the attention of the eldest Potter, the hat answered James, and James said, “Yeah, bold, cool, I get it. ‘Brave’ is a really debatable trait. We could say that any great loyalty inspires great bravery, so I’m going with my buddy. Hufflepuff.”

The hat responded to him, and James said, “Oh, buddy, if you put me in Slytherin, you’re going to be feeling some real Potter wrath. I don’t want you to make the wrong decision. I just don't want that for you.”

Then the hat had said something that made James Sirius actually laugh, his whole face lighting up. He gave the hat a swat as if they were old friends getting lunch together. “Alright now. We both know I’m not that smart - yeah, you got that. I’m not going Slytherin, because that would be silly. I can barely see the difference between bravery and loyalty, so I’m telling you what I want. Are we not on the same page?”

The hat said something that made James crack up and say, “Oh, you,” before the hat shouted, “HUFFLEPUFF!” and James ran towards the Hufflepuff table without remembering to take the hat off. There was thunderous applause from the Huflepuffs and Slytherins, who must have decided that losing James Potter was a blow to Gryffindor, meaning a win for Slytherin.

He had skidded to a halt a foot away from the table as Teddy Lupin mimed taking off the hat on his head. James had turned back, set it back down carefully, and called, “Thank you very much, Sorting Hat. Means a lot!” before running straight into Teddy Lupin’s arms. The two of them had hugged and shouted in delight before the sorting commenced. Draco’s stomach had turned unpleasantly when he shot a glance at Harry Potter and saw him watching Teddy and James with tears pricking his eyes. The whole family was insufferable, whether or not Teddy was Draco’s favorite in his year.

James had pulled back to smile up at Teddy, and Teddy had beamed down at him, his long hair turning the same shade of bright red as James’s before he had pushed his third year friend to the side so that James could take the seat next to him. Hufflepuffs were not known for cold greetings, but even by their standards, James was welcomed in with open arms. His last name combined with everyone’s adoration for Teddy and the charming discussion with the Sorting Hat made James Potter the most popular student in Hufflepuff before he even sat down at the table.

James’s sorting had been amusing and touching for all involved. His father clearly didn’t mind that James hadn’t been sent to Gryffindor. The Sorting Hat had suggested that Gryffindor was his first choice for James anyway, but James wanted to be with Teddy, and Harry Potter didn’t stop smiling for several days after the decision. Draco could see how his Gryffindor-worthy son instead choosing to join his orphaned godson in Hufflepuff was actually the best possible outcome from Harry Potter’s perspective. It was all very revolting. Potter was delighted.

No one was delighted when the class of 2013 queued up for their sorting.

Potter was much more stressed this time around. James Sirius Potter had been destined for Gryffindor or the house of his choosing, but it was evident that James would choose his destination and everyone there would embrace him. James hit the ground running and flourished at Hogwarts. The Hufflepuffs adored him, and the Gryffindors simply said, ‘Aw, shucks, maybe the next one,’ or however it was that Gryffindors spoke. 

The next Potter was Albus Severus Potter. Draco knew Albus Severus Potter; the kid had been dropped off in Draco’s office at least once a month for the past two years. He even kind of enjoyed Albus, at least because he made Scorpius happy and subverted the Potter norms in a way that Draco considered to be hilarious. Albus Severus Potter, however, was not destined for Gryffindor. Draco knew it, and it took only one look at Harry Potter’s tense shoulders to tell Draco that he knew it too. At the Hufflepuff table, both James Sirius Potter and Teddy Lupin were already warily examining Albus huddled with the other first years.

Draco had no idea where Albus would be sorted, which meant Hufflepuff was likely the safest bet. He wasn’t an easy kid to get to know; Draco still hadn’t even seen Albus do any magic. Both Draco and Harry had simply taken Scorpius’s word for it that Albus was not a Squib and were proven right when Albus’s Hogwarts letter arrived at the same time as Scorpius’s. Draco had attempted to interrogate his son about what house Albus wanted, but Scorpius was always so withholding with his details about Albus. 

Neither of them had let on to Draco about what House they wanted until, a few weeks before Scorpius was due at Hogwarts, Draco had finally swallowed his resignations and sat him down for the Voldemort Talk.

“And I want you to know all the details,” Draco had told him gravely. “Between our reclusivity after your mother got pregnant, your mother’s frailty, your grandfather’s death, the Malfoy’s previous political alliances, the habitation of Voldemort in the Manor, and the time turner found at the Nott house, people have pieced the evidence together to decide that you must be Voldemort’s son. Harry Potter claims that Voldemort’s child rumors were around for years before you were born about many different children, but they appear to have settled on you. I don’t know - I’ve tried to do whatever I can to get rid of the rumors, but it’s out of our control at this point.”

Scorpius had stared back at him with an expression of pure horror. “But I’m not though, right? I’m not his son?” 

“No!” Draco had said quickly. “No, of course not.”

“That’s… that’s a lot of evidence they have there, dad.”

“No, Scorpius, you’re my son. I promise you that. The evidence - they’re just making pieces fit to support a pre-existing rumor. And no one who matters believes the rumors. Harry Potter - he was asked to inspect you, and he said that the rumors were clearly false. But… it appears that almost everyone who _doesn’t_ matter… it appears that _they_ believe it.”

“Everyone,” Scorpius had repeated.

Draco had nodded. “Most people, yes.”

“This is popular opinion,” Scorpius had said grimly. “How am I supposed to say that they’re wrong?”

Draco had frowned. “You… well, you can’t, really. Any arguments could be explained away with magic. The only thing that I can suggest is that you try your very hardest to get into Slytherin. Can you do that for me?”

Scorpius’s eyes had been very wide when he looked up to meet Draco’s, and Draco had never felt like such a failure as a father, so completely unable to help him. “I wanted to go Hufflepuff.”

“It isn’t exactly a choice,” Draco had said diplomatically. “But remember what we said about Occlumency, about showing only the parts of yourself that help you in the moment? Scorpius, the rumors about you are false, but rumors are very dangerous. We can’t disprove them. I don’t know how the other houses will react, but I do know that if you end up in Slytherin that your classmates will respect you regardless of your birth, and I can help. If you aren’t in Slytherin, then I don’t know what I could do if… if the other students, if they…”

Scorpius’s lips had turned down like he was about to cry. “I don’t feel like a Slytherin, dad. I don’t think they’ll like me.”

“They will!” Draco had said quickly. “They really will, and it will help that you’re a Malfoy.”

“And it’ll help if I’m a Riddle?” Scorpius had asked brutally. “Albus said he wants Hufflepuff. I want Hufflepuff too.”

“When did Hufflepuff become cool? Everyone wants Gryffindor or Slytherin!”

“No, dad, we’re over that! Gryffindor and Slytherin suck, and Ravenclaw sucks in its own way! I want to be a Hufflepuff. They won’t care if people think I’m Voldemort’s son.”

Draco had recoiled. “Slytherin isn’t a punishment, Scorpius. You might be really happy there.”

“Why, dad?” Scorpius had demanded in a petulant way that he had never done before he’d met Albus Severus Potter. “Why would I be happy? Because you’re Head of House? Because my grandfather scared everyone? Because they think I’m Voldemort’s son? None of those reasons really make me want to get to know the Slytherins!”

Draco had thought he was going to cry. “I want you to go wherever the hat thinks you belong, Scorpius. I just - you’re a child. You don’t understand how dangerous this rumor could be for you. Your happiness is so much more important to me than anything else.”

Scorpius had frowned and looked down at his lap like he hoped a book would materialize there so he could forget about this whole conversation. He had declared, “I want Hufflepuff. We both want Hufflepuff,” and the conversation had ended there.

Now Scorpius, along with forty peers, was being sorted, and that was the last piece of information that Draco had been given about Scorpius’s preferences. It had been a very quiet few weeks at Malfoy Manor; Scorpius had been lost in thought for much of it, and Astoria refused to disclose anything he’d shared with her privately. Scorpius grew more distant from Draco and closer to Astoria everyday, and Draco felt horribly guilty that he was the parent that Scorpius would be stuck with at Hogwarts. The parent who’d given Scorpius his name and reputation. The parent who Scorpius would be stuck with.

Draco applauded with forced excitement as two boys were sent off to Slytherin early on - Emmanuel Burke and Stuart Bletchley. They both approached the Slytherin table with the arrogant “my dad knows the head of house!” smile that Draco had come to recognize on all the pure-bloods’ faces. He was struck by a strange stabbing of loathing for Slytherin House and grabbed his water goblet so tightly that his hand shook as he struggled to look impassive. Draco had met so many Slytherins, and Scorpius was so much better than all of them. He allowed himself to hope that Scorpius could be happy in Hufflepuff like he wanted.

He had grown accustomed to watching with disinterest as Weasley after Weasley was sorted into Gryffindor. The most exciting sortings by far had been the two Hufflepuffs, Teddy Lupin and James Potter. After those two, it was just a long parade of red hair clashing with crimson and gold. Rose Granger-Weasley proved no different. Her name was called, and she gave Albus a conspiratorial nudge before strutting up to the hat and being declared, after less than a second of deliberation, a Gryffindor. Her cousins, Fred, Dominique, and Lucy, were all there to welcome her to the table with open arms while the other new Gryffindors watched the Weasley spawn enviously. Rose shot Albus a glowing smile, and Albus nodded weakly in agreement.

Scorpius was called, and it took Draco a few moments to notice that his eyes kept darting to Rose Granger-Weasley and three of the other new Gryffindors hesitantly like they had said something that had upset him. Even more tellingly, he steadfastly avoided looking at Albus at all. Now that Draco examined him more closely, he looked almost devastated. Draco was going to destroy those little Gryffindor brats. He wished the Flints were a year older so that they could be here with Scorpius for the sorting, because Albus Severus was clearly angling for Gryffindor with all of his horrible cousins, and something must have happened on the train that convinced Scorpius that he didn’t belong there.

Scorpius stood in front of the chair, surveying the hall silently. All four tables looked back at him, three of them with cold intimidation and one with electric interest. Scorpius gulped. The choice was obvious, and Draco could see the change on his face when he realized that his father was right. It made him wish he hadn’t been right.

Scorpius sat down and put on the hat. He shut his eyes very tightly and, within seconds, the hat roared, “SLYTHERIN!” and the entire Slytherin table stood up in raucous applause.

He shot Draco a shy smile as he joined the table, both Stuart Bletchley and Emmanuel Burke swarming him within seconds. Draco wasn’t sure if it was a coincidence or if Scorpius had broken some kind of seal, but student after student was sent to Slytherin after him, including two eerily familiar twins with dark hair and upturned noses by the names of Adelaide and Rhiannon Moore and another warm-smiled girl named Diedrich Mulpepper. Everyone convened around Scorpius, and he smiled awkwardly as he fielded questions that Draco should have prepared him for answering. 

There was complete silence as Albus Severus Potter was called up to be sorted. James Potter and Teddy Lupin both craned their necks to get a better look, as did most of the Great Hall at the sound of his last name. Rose Granger-Weasley rested her cheek on her fist with bored surety that Albus would be joining her in Gryffindor. The Slytherins around Scorpius sneered at him because he was a Potter who was about to be sorted into Gryffindor, and Scorpius looked both hopeful and preemptively upset as Albus sat down to be sorted.

The hat was set on Albus’s head, and Albus whispered with it privately for a few seconds, not like James who had so openly broadcast his sorting to the student body. Albus Severus Potter kept his discussion very private and clearly didn’t get the result for which he’d hoped when the hat shouted, “SLYTHERIN!”

The hall was silent. Draco shot a sly glance at Harry, who was scanning the room with an anguished expression. Draco realized somewhat bitterly that Potter was definitely more concerned with his son’s lack of a warm welcome from the entire school rather than the possibility that Albus might have Slytherin attributes. The cold judgement on every face in the Great Hall drew Draco’s mind back to the day in this same room when a fourth name had sprung out of the Goblet of Fire and Harry Potter had been forced to stand up and walk by himself past a room full of death stares to join the other champions. Except Albus didn’t just stand up and move.

The silence was almost suffocating, and Draco realized too late that perhaps it was his job as Head of Slytherin to make the first move. Finally, James Potter began to applaud. Teddy Lupin and all of their Hufflepuff friends joined in only a second later, and Rose shouted, “Wait, Al, this isn’t right!” while several other Weasleys gestured for Rose to calm down. The little Gryffindor pricks that had glared at Scorpius were now shooting disgusted looks at Albus as he took off the Sorting Hat and hopped up.

The Slytherins appeared unsure of how to proceed until an especially boisterous sixth year, Carwyn Snyde, stood up and shouted, “FUCK IT, WE GOT POTTER!” and the rest of the table took its cue to burst into applause. Scorpius stood up and beckoned Albus towards them, and Emmanuel Burke and Stuart Bletchley looked at each other and exchanged an ambivalent shrug before standing up to greet Albus. 

Albus seemed like he was struggling not to break into a run to get from the front of the room to Scorpius as soon as possible. He kept his head down to avoid making eye contact with any of the other students even though most of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had now joined Hufflepuff in applauding him under firm glares from all of Albus’s Weasley cousins. He sank down into the spot next to Scorpius and kept his face intentionally shielded from the Head Table although Draco could see that his cheeks were bright red and hand was tightly gripping the sleeves of Scorpius’s robes. 

The sorting wrapped up with three more students being sent to Draco’s house - Elin Pucey, Leonora Warrington, and Ezra Tobbins, who held the great distinction of being the second muggle-born ever sorted into Slytherin. The first years had clustered around Albus and Scorpius, but Draco didn’t see Albus open his mouth more than three times throughout the entire feast and Scorpius certainly had not mastered the important life skill of faking a smile. He spoke to his classmates with his teeth bared, radiating an awkward, manic uncomfortability, while Albus picked at his food and studiously avoided meeting anyone’s eyes. He would occasionally flinch and glance quickly in the directions of clusters of students snickering together at the other tables then frown and look back down at his food.

Draco was impressed that Harry Potter even made it through the feast before cornering him but suspected that Neville, who always sat at Harry’s side at the Head Table and was the only professor who could provide him advice that he’d actually consider, had suggested that Harry would do best to seem as unconcerned with Albus as possible in front of the students. Once the prefects had led the first years out of the Great Hall and the upperclassmen had followed them out minutes after, the professors were alone, and Harry set off directly for Draco.

He had expected Harry to jump down his throat about something that was in no way Draco’s fault, and he certainly looked like he was gearing up for a fight, but all he did was say, “What do you think?”

Draco did not see it coming. “I - what? What do I think about what?” 

“The Slytherins - did they like Al? Are they going to be nice to him? What’s going on down there right now? Are you going to check on them?”

“Scorpius likes him.”

“James told me that both Scorpius and Albus wanted Hufflepuff. What changed?”

“The Sorting Hat doesn’t make all its decisions based on the wishes of children. It would be rather pointless if it did. I suspect that Scorpius probably changed his mind and asked for Slytherin, and Albus might just be a Slytherin.”

Harry didn’t seem to like the sound of that. “Al isn’t a Slytherin.”

“Oh, come off it. Slytherin’s not a house for evil cowards. It’s all about cunning and ambition - it’s a good thing! And honestly, I’m pretty sure it’s becoming the hedonist house, but don’t tell McGonagall because discipline really cuts into my spare time. I’m glad they’re carving out a new niche for themselves. Don’t worry: I told Scorpius not to eat, drink, or inhale anything given to him in the common room, and he’ll pass it on to Albus.”

Harry paused. “Absolutely none of that makes me feel better.”

“Don’t worry about your son, Potter. Everyone gets sent where they’re sent for a reason. I know that you hate Slytherin.”

“I don’t hate Slytherin,” Harry protested.

“You hate Slytherin.”

“I just think that for a house that boasts ambition and cunning, it sure has created a number of dumb evil henchmen. Our year had exactly one person who actually showed any of the Slytherin virtues, and it was Blaise Zabini.”

Draco frowned, having successfully avoided thinking about Blaise for several weeks this time. It made his heart hurt and stomach turn to hear his name, especially spoken in a positive sense from someone he respected and basically revered. “I’m a Slytherin!”

“And you are, if possible, the least cunning person I’ve ever met, Malfoy.”

“Excuse me,” said Draco. “If I’m not cunning, then why am I the only Death Eater not in Azkaban? Riddle me that, Potter, pun absolutely unintended and deeply regretted.”

“Because you are truly an exceptional follower. Look, I’m just worried the other kids will be cruel. At least if he’d been in Gryffindor, I’d have faith that no one would mess with him, but the Slytherins won’t be impressed by his name or… you get it. You get it.”

Draco did get it. He’d had the exact same conversation with Scorpius in reverse. “Potter, as someone who was very, very popular in Slytherin,” Draco began, ignoring Harry’s derisive snort. “I have come to accept that popularity might not be everything. Albus will have Scorpius, and Scorpius…. Well, he isn’t cool, Potter. They’re not going to think he’s cool.”

*

_“Well, he isn’t cool, Potter. They’re not going to think he’s cool.”_

_“No one in Slytherin is going to mess with your son, Malfoy,”_ Albus said to Scorpius in an uncanny imitation of Harry Potter. Scorpius watched with wide eyes as Albus relayed the conversation to him while they hid out together in the boys’ bathroom of the Slytherin dormitory. He had always believed that Albus was telling the truth about being able to hear other people’s conversations, but this was only the second time that Albus had ever attempted to transmit the information to Scorpius. The first time had been with a group of James’s friends during his first year, and Albus was not nearly as good at the impressions. 

They had relocated to the bathroom to escape their housemates and because Albus had been getting overwhelmed all night as he was, apparently, the subject of many conversations at the same time, none of them particularly kind. Besides, if Scorpius had to hear one more member of his house marvel at their luck at receiving both Voldemort’s and Harry Potter’s son, he was going to scream or, more likely, break down crying. In defense of the general Slytherin student body, each time someone made the joke, another person would point out the rumor was unbelievably stupid, but still the joke kept getting made. Scorpius’s smile had kept getting faker, and Albus had kept retreating further into himself.

“Both of our dads are so mean,” Scorpius interrupted and was pleased to see Albus burst out laughing at his statement of the obvious. “You need to learn how to tune that out, Albus.”

“I usually can!” Albus protested. “But sometimes I get really overwhelmed. In my defense, today has sucked.”

Scorpius smiled at him sympathetically. “I was thinking about something my dad said, and I think that the conversations - the way to keep them out, it is still just like Occlumency, even if you’re not hearing thoughts. It’s about closing your mind.”

“Yes, but to be taught Occlumency, I’d have to tell someone - your dad - what happens, which means that he’ll know that I know that he called me ‘Potter’s dud son’ for the first year of our friendship. You know he calls your cousins ‘the troll twins’?”

“I call my cousins the troll twins,” Scorpius said. “Wait til you meet them. They’re actually trolls. And you don’t need to learn Occlumency from my dad. We can find some books on it in the library and teach it to ourselves!”

Albus moaned and nodded. “This has been the worst day, Scorpius.”

Scorpius could not agree more. Part of him was still waiting for an apology from Albus himself that he was certain was not forthcoming. They’d found each other before boarding the Hogwarts Express, but Albus had been with his cousin, who had been absolutely amazing other than the fact that she and everyone she was with had hated Scorpius. The Voldemort rumors were as pervasive as Scorpius’s dad had claimed, and even though Rose had intimated that she herself didn’t believe the rumors, she and Albus had chosen to sit with some of the most vocal proclaimers of the Voldemort’s son rumor - Karl Jenkins, Yann Fredricks, Polly Chapman, and Zephaniel Smith, the new generation of Gryffindor. Scorpius might have held it against Albus (although realistically never would have) except that Albus had seemed so upset and isolated by the time they had all been shepherded into the boats that Scorpius just wanted to help make him feel better.

Scorpius had, in fact, been deeply injured by Albus’s willingness to abandon him for Rose and the other Gryffindors and, although it was now completely forgiven, had to remind himself not to wrap an arm around Albus’s shoulders or embarrass himself by going too far trying to cheer him up. “We’re Slytherin,” Scorpius said vaguely. “Nothing we can do about it now.”

“They like you though,” Albus said accusingly.

“They like my name. They like that I might be Voldemort’s kid. They don’t like me.”

“They’re stupid.”

Scorpius smiled a little. “Hey, Albus?”

“Yeah, Scorpius?”

“You know what really annoys me about all the rumors?”

Albus looked him over then smiled. “The way they keep acting like ‘Voldemort’ was a last name?”

“The way they keep acting like ‘Voldemort’ was a last name!” Scorpius cried, deeply irritated but also heartwarmed to see that Albus knew him so well that he had noticed that the nitpicker in Scorpius had been struggling not to correct people all night. “My name wouldn’t be Scorpius Voldemort!”

“It’d be Scorpius Riddle, yeah,” agreed Albus. “I was thinking about that.”

“What would have been the first name? ‘Lord’? ‘Lord Tom Voldemort’? Ridiculous.”

“Riddle-culous,” Albus confirmed solemnly.

“But I can’t correct anyone because you know what they’d say!”

“Yeah, it’d be like, ‘You sure know Voldemort awfully intimately, don’t you, Scorpdemort?’” Albus mimicked sarcastically.

Scorpius covered his heart. “Thank Merlin no one but you has come up with ‘Scorpdemort’ yet.”

Albus grinned at him. “I’ll spread it. Don’t worry.” 

The door to the bathroom opened, and Iwan Byrne, the muggle-born Slytherin from Albus’s brother’s year who had been the friendliest classmate by far to the two of them, strode inside while already fumbling to open his robes. He paused and looked them over without the slightest hint of embarrassment. “Potter, Voldy, this room isn’t here for you to hide from your classmates. Go meet the other kids.”

“What if we don’t want to?” Albus asked petulantly.

Iwan sneered at him. “I don’t want you to hear me piss, but unfortunately I’m rubbish at silencing charms, so we’re going to have to go by standard muggle protocol and not use the bathroom as a lounge.”

“Is there something wrong with the way you piss?” Scorpius asked innocently.

Albus grinned. “I bet he stops and starts a lot. Old person like yourself.”

“You whippersnappers,” Iwan said mockingly. “Get out of here. Everyone’s going to go make friends without you.”

“We have friends,” Albus said. He gestured at Scorpius as if to show off his friend.

Iwan’s face softened. “Look, I know it’s scary what with your names and all. In my first year, more people knew me as ‘the Slytherin muggle-born’ than they did ‘Iwan’, but I did eventually become Iwan. And one day you two will be Albus and Scorpius, but for right now, if you don’t leave on your own volition, I’m going to tell those everyone that Potter and Voldy have decided to hang out in the bathroom, and no one shall piss in peace ever again.”

“It seemed like you were about to go somewhere lovelier with that message,” Scorpius said.

“Because I need to piss! Get out!”

Albus nodded quickly and grabbed Scorpius’s sleeve to pull him out of the bathroom after him. They met eyes briefly, and Scorpius shot him a weak smile and allowed Albus to lead him back to the first year’s dorm. 

The other boys were almost done unpacking and chatted idly as they finished. Scorpius would say that, as far as Slytherin worst case scenario went, these boys seemed pretty good. He was slightly intimidated by Emmanuel Burke, a tan boy with oily skin and shoulder-length hair, who had approached Scorpius like they would have some kind of pure-blood, Slytherin legacy bond. He’d even said, “My dad told me to make friends with you,” and then after a few minutes of speaking with Scorpius had declared, “Actually, I don’t think he’ll care,” and turned his focus to Stuart Bletchley, a short and stocky brunet with an omnipresent grin who had been one of the few people not to ask Scorpius and Albus any prying questions. The third boy, Ezra Tobbins, was the second muggle-born ever to be sorted into Slytherin and had spent most of the feast simply observing the other boys in their natural habitat. 

“Where’d you two run off to?” Stuart called when Albus and Scorpius slunk back into the dorm and began unpacking their trunks. 

“Nowhere,” Albus said quickly. “Just the bathroom.”

“Hm,” said Stuart, unconvinced.

“Hey,” Ezra said, dropping a poster onto his bed and walking over to sit down on Scorpius’s mattress. “Are you two feeling okay? People were kind of weird to you during dinner.”

“Oh, notice that, did you?” Albus asked sarcastically.

“Yeah, we expected that, really,” said Scorpius.

“Are you two also muggle-borns?” Ezra asked. “Because some of the older kids were kind of weird to me too.”

“No, we’re - are you serious?” Albus asked, completely taken aback. He looked at Emmanuel and Stuart. “You guys didn’t fill him in?”

“No, Albus Severus,” said Emmanuel in a bored voice. “It may shock you to discover that we’re not all talking about you all the time. Ezra was explaining stupid muggle groundsports to us.” Without tearing his eyes away from Albus’s, he explained, in the most condescending tone Scorpius had ever heard, “Ezra, Albus Severus has a famous daddy.”

“Scorpius also has a famous daddy,” Stuart added. “Our Head of House.”

“Oh, the blonde guy?” Ezra asked. “Professor Malfoy, right? Is he going to introduce himself or something?”

“We’ll see him in Potions,” Stuart said. 

Ezra shrugged. “Sure, okay.”

“Albus Severus’s dad also teaches here,” Emmanuel said. “The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher - Harry Potter. He’s a household name, so you should remember that one.”

“Excellent,” said Ezra. “Harry Potter. Got it. And he did what exactly?”

“He saved the world from a genocidal blood purist dictator when he was a baby and then again when he was seventeen,” Stuart informed him. “Scorpius’s whole family supported him. So did Emmanuel’s.”

Ezra nodded slowly, brow furrowed as he sorted out the new information. “Wow. If this is how intertwined all of your wizard families are, then I feel very lucky to be muggle-born.”

“I would love to be muggle-born,” Albus said at the same time that Scorpius blurted out, “They’ll judge you for that too.”

Ezra looked at them and smiled. “I’ve decided. I’m going to reclaim ‘Mudblood’.”

“How do you know that word? Did someone say that to you?” Scorpius whispered. “You really shouldn’t use that word.”

He pretended to scowl. “Don’t tell me what to do, you filthy pure-blood.”

Scorpius’s eyes widened. “What?!”

“Scorpius, he’s just taking the piss,” Albus whispered in his ear, making Scorpius flinch and look around wildly. Albus put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and Scorpius nodded.

Stuart walked over to sit down next to Ezra on Scorpius’s bed, which was just as well as Scorpius was far too stressed to unpack as he listened to the only person with no preconceived notions about himself get filled in on all the history and rumors circulating him and Albus. “There’s also a pretty pervasive rumor that Scorpius’s dad isn’t Professor Malfoy but is actually the very same genocidal blood purist dictator who Albus’s dad killed fifteen years ago.”

Scorpius and Albus both exchanged a panicked glance, then Ezra laughed and said, “What, how? He’s eleven.”

Stuart and Emmanuel fumbled through an explanation of time turners and time travel in general, both apparently perplexed by how the muggle-born might have more understanding of time travel dynamics than they did as wizards, until Albus cut in, “It’s all bullshit. All the time turners were in the Ministry of Magic and were smashed when my dad broke in in his fifth year.”

“That doesn’t disprove anything,” pointed out Ezra. “You wizards need to watch more television. Nothing’s ever wiped off the face of the planet. There’s always one. And only the U.K. Ministry had any time turners? What are the other wizards doing, just sitting around, shitting in their hats? Invent time travel!”

“No, wizards just shit in their pants,” explained Emmanuel. “Or they did. Why would they use their hats?”

“You could also read,” Scorpius added. “If you want to understand basic plot devices.”

“We don’t,” Stuart said. “My dad got us a television two years ago. You don’t go back to reading after you’ve watched a movie.”

Emmanuel wrinkled his nose at the idea of a muggle movie (but not old wizards shitting their pants). “Irregardless, Harry Potter didn’t destroy all the time turners. A classmate of Scorpius’s dad was found with a time turner around the time Scorpius was conceived that had been made in Malfoy gold.”

There was a long silence, then Albus corrected, probably because he knew Scorpius wished he could if he could form words at the moment, “Regardless. You just mean ‘regardless’.”

Scorpius studied Ezra closely until a gigantic, mocking smile spread out over his face, and he repeated, “‘Malfoy gold’? Who the fuck do you think you are, the fucking Lannisters?”

Scorpius was politely confused. “Who are they? I’ve never heard of that family.”

Stuart nudged Ezra. “And he’d know, because Scorpius Malfoy would definitely have had to memorize the words and heraldry of all the big wizard houses growing up.”

Ezra shouted happily. “You watch it!” 

“Watch what?” Emmanuel asked, threatened by the instant connection that just popped up between Stuart and Ezra.

“Okay, Stu, this is what I’ve gathered,” said Ezra as if the other three boys were no longer participants in the conversation. “Help me understand the Wizarding World. We’ve got little Albus Severus Stark over here, yeah? And this kid - Scorpius - he’s like a Lannister but with Targaryen hair? Cool, already a fan favorite. And Emmanuel would be Qyburn, I suppose? Have you gotten that far?” 

“I’m caught up!” Stuart said excitedly. He clapped his hands, already cracking up although Scorpius couldn’t tell if any jokes were being made. “That’s spot on! If you want to get even more specific, then I think Albus’s dad would be Jon Snow, and Scorpius’s dad is Joffrey, and his granddad, the one who died in prison - Tywin. Full Tywin.”

“Oh, no,” Ezra said, both of them cackling. “Joffrey’s our Head of House? He gave me such Dany vibes!”

“Oh, no, not at all. Only the hair and vague family history of inbreeding.”

Emmanuel scoffed and muttered something to himself before returning to his four-poster to finish unpacking while Ezra and Stuart’s conversation devolved from anything relating to the Wizarding World into just a frantic recap of whatever muggle show had gotten them so fired up. Scorpius surrendered his bed to the two of them and sat down on Albus’s, which he had been pleased to discover was right next to his own.

Albus forewent packing to join Scorpius on his bed, pulling his legs up to sit cross-legged next to him without taking his shoes off. “We need to watch this muggle show. Don’t forget that name he used - Jon Snow.”

“I never forget anything,” Scorpius said solemnly. He leaned his shoulder against Albus’s. “Thank you for correcting Emmanuel for me.”

Albus bit back a smile. “I could see you just dying inside over it.” He leaned back against Scorpius’s. “This lot’s not so bad, then. I was expecting worse.”

“More dumb, evil henchmen, like your dad said?”

Albus snorted. “I really do wish I were a muggle-born, to get to experience all of this with no prior knowledge or biases. We need to figure out how to get in with Ezra.” 

“Yeah! He and Stuart are both great.” 

Albus glanced over at Scorpius’s bed, where Ezra was crying, “Ygritte!” and making some hand gesture that Scorpius didn’t recognize, and Stuart was screaming wordlessly and making a much more easily recognizable hand gesture. Scorpius was disgusted, and Albus frowned. “They definitely masturbate to this show.”

“What? How do you know?” Scorpius asked in a shrill voice. “You seem unperturbed!”

“My older brother is going through puberty, and I think he wants us to know about it,” Albus said grimly. “He warned me about what boys dorms are like.”

Scorpius’s heart was beating very quickly. What were the boys dorms like? “My dad just told me not to let anyone point their wand at me or ingest anything given to me by an upperclassman.”

“That was really good advice!” Albus said enthusiastically. “You saw what happened to those American twins. They were drunk on something by the time the other girls brought them upstairs.”

As if Albus had given them their cue, the door to the boys’ dormitory was pushed open, and Adelaide and Rhiannon Moore marched shamelessly into the room. They had changed out of their uniforms and were now wearing pink sweatpants and large graphic t-shirts that said ONE DIRECTION and LORDE respectively. Someone must have sobered them up, or they simply walked with great poise and confidence under all circumstances. Adelaide shouted, “GIRLS ON THE FLOOR!” and Albus muttered something disparaging under his breath that Scorpius really wished he could have heard.

“Oh, Merlin, not these two again!” Emmanuel cried from the opposite side of the room. “How’d the fugly twins get in here?”

“Excuse me?” asked Rhiannon, appalled. “We are gorgeous, beautiful women.”

“Hm, where?” Stuart asked earnestly, making Ezra roar with laughter.

“The fugly puglies broke into our dorm,” Emmanuel reported. 

“We’re not here for you, incel!” Adelaide shouted. “Get out of here with your oily self.”

“Why are you here at all?” Stuart asked politely. 

Rhiannon looked hurt. “We just wanted to come say ‘hi’. Why are you all being so mean? We’re going to be in Slytherin together for seven years!”

“I’m sorry about them!” Scorpius said. They exchanged a knowing look then fixed him with an even more withering sneer than they’d given Emmanuel, so Scorpius figured he must be meeting the first Slytherins to believe that he was Voldemort’s son (and not view that as a positive). “I - I’m sorry, did I do something?”

“Why do you talk like that?” Albus asked. “Why aren’t you at Ilvermorny?”

Adelaide continued sneering, but Rhiannon relaxed as she shifted her attention to Albus. “Our mom is an alum, Albus Severus Potter. You don’t get sent to Ilvermorny just because you have an American accent.”

“She moved after the war,” Adelaide added.

“What was that?” Emmanuel asked loudly. “Only people to expat after the war were Voldemort’s supporters. Who’s your _mommy,_ Adelaide?”

“My aunt Luna’s kids have weird accents, and she didn’t support Voldemort,” said Albus. “That seems like a big generalization.”

“You’re not muggle-borns?” Ezra asked. 

He gestured at his chest area, and Adelaide snapped, “How dare you?”

“Okay, I’m tapping out with these two,” Ezra said. “You’re wearing muggle band t-shirts! Ugh. C’mon, Stu.”

He and Stuart abandoned Scorpius’s bed, and Adelaide and Rhiannon took it over before Scorpius could make a move. Scorpius gave Albus a helpless look, and Albus nodded understandingly. He only looked away when Adelaide Moore cleared her throat to draw his attention to her outstretched hand. 

“Oh,” said Albus blankly. He shook Adelaide’s hand. “Hi.”

“We were very excited when you got sorted into our class, Albus Severus,” Adelaide told him importantly. 

“Albus is fine,” Albus said. 

“Did you want Slytherin, Albus Severus?” Rhiannon pressed.

Albus had no response, and Adelaide said, “You seemed really unhappy when the sorting hat made its decision. Which house did you want?”

“And why not Slytherin?”

“Are you at peace with it now?”

“Is your dad okay with you hanging out with the son of Voldemort?”

“Or the son of Professor Malfoy?”

Without saying a word, Albus reached up to draw the curtains on his bed. Scorpius drew his legs up compliantly so that they could be shielded from the rest of the dormitory. Outside, he could hear Emmanuel laughing at Adelaide and Rhiannon and the twins firing back insults at lightning speed. Albus widened his eyes at Scorpius and whispered, “What!”

Scorpius gestured at the sheltered bed and whispered back, “I think we live here now.”

“The House-elves can bring us food.”

“It’s a simple world, but it’s ours.”

Albus snorted. “You didn’t get to unpack at all.”

“No, but I take it as a win that none of my immediate dormmates think I’m Voldemort’s son. Unpacking isn’t so great.” 

Scorpius yawned, and Albus smiled back at him sleepily. “No one worth a damn actually believes that rumor. People just spread it because they’re boring, and you aren’t.”

“The Gryffindors seemed to believe it,” Scorpius said grumpily.

“Yeah, and they’re not worth a damn.” Albus shut his eyes and listened to the argument still raging outside the curtains before kicking off his shoes and positioning himself lengthwise on the bed. He yawned without covering his mouth. “You can sleep here if you want. I am not facing the Moore twins again tonight.”

Scorpius was too drowsy to consider this offer from all angles as he would have under ordinary circumstances. He was tired and warm and there were two loud, abrasive girls and three strange boys outside of those curtains and only Albus inside them. The moment Albus made the offer, Scorpius realized how much he’d been dreading leaving the privacy of Albus’s four-poster. He smiled at him, and Albus smiled back before taking the only pillow into his arms. Scorpius kicked off his shoes and scooted to the farthest edge of the mattress, still above the blankets. Neither of them spoke again, and Scorpius couldn’t believe he’d fallen asleep so easily when he was woken up by the sound of the door creaking open and heavy, adult-sized footsteps entering the dormitory. 

The footsteps stopped in front of what should have been his bed, and a man said, without any concern for the slumbering children, “Scorpius Malfoy? I’m looking for Scorpius Malfoy.”

Albus, still mostly asleep, hit Scorpius in the face and said, “Sh.”

Scorpius sat up and whispered, “Uncle Marcus?”

He ducked out of the curtains of Albus’s bed and, sure, enough, Marcus Flint was standing in the middle of the first year’s dormitory, looking preposterously gigantic. Marcus grinned at him. “Glad you made Slytherin, little Malfoy. I’ve been sent to summon you.”

“Scorp-us, I’m gonna kill you,” Emmanuel muttered.

Stuart echoed this sentiment with an angry, “Scooooor-pus!”

“Sorry, small children!” Marcus said. “C’mon, Scorpius.”

Scorpius, too tired to fully digest how insane this was, slipped on his shoes and followed Marcus Flint out of the dormitory. In his half-asleep brain, it made complete sense that his father’s friend had stopped by to wake him up because he’d accidentally fallen asleep in the wrong bed, and Scorpius was very disappointed to realize that this meant that he couldn’t fall asleep in Albus’s bed anymore or Marcus Flint would come wake him up. 

“What’s going on?” Scorpius asked when he was awake enough to realize that that concern was crazy.

Marcus’s smile faded. “There was - there’s been a problem with your aunt.”

“Millicent?” Scorpius croaked.

“No, no, not Millie. She’s with your uncle Blaise - remember him? Your aunt Daphne, Scorpius. I’m sorry. She died a few hours ago.”

“Aunt Daphne?” Scorpius echoed weakly. “How?”

“I’m not so sure,” Marcus admitted. “I just know that your mum really needs you to be strong for her right now, okay? She needs you there.”

“Is she in dad’s office?”

“Yeah, she - Scorpius!” Marcus broke out in a run after Scorpius, and they hurtled down the halls until Scorpius skidded to a halt in front of his father’s office. Inside, his father had his arm wrapped around his mother, who was shaking and had clearly been crying only moments ago. Marcus cleared his throat to announce their presence, and Scorpius’s mother sat up so that Scorpius could rush into her arms. “I’ve already filled him in, Draco.”

“Thank you, Marcus,” Scorpius’s dad said in a hoarse voice. “Scorpius, we’re going to the Zabini Estate. Do you want to come with us? We’ll be back in time for classes tomorrow.”

Scorpius made a wordless noise of agreement as he hugged his mother, and his father sighed and stood up. Scorpius pulled back and extended a hand to help his mother stand up as he’d grown so accustomed to seeing his father do, and she smiled down at him weepily and allowed him to pull her up. She stroked his cheek, and he looked up at her as the images of all the indices he’d used to reference the search term _blood malediction, Greengrass_ flashed through his mind. 

Marcus Flint went first, grabbing a handful of Floo powder and shouting, “Zabini Estate!”

Scorpius went after him and was there to help his mother out of the fireplace when she arrived in the large foyer that was empty other than Millicent Flint kneeling in front of a handsome and completely despondent black man that Scorpius felt that he should have recognized. There was something so familiar about him and so deeply unsettling about the way his whole body screamed his grief. His father recognized it too because as Scorpius stood there clutching his mother, his father tumbled out of the fireplace and shouted, “Blaise!” 

He sobbed, and Scorpius’s father rushed over to join him. The man - Blaise - stood up and pulled Scorpius’s dad into a tight hug, and Scorpius watched transfixed as they sobbed into each other’s shoulders, and Scorpius’s dad said things like, _“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, I was being so stupid, I’m so sorry”_ and Blaise respond with, _“I’m sorry, Draco, I never meant to, I missed you so much, I’m so sorry, thank you, I’m sorry.”_

Scorpius’s dad pulled back slightly and said, “I’m so sorry, Blaise. I can’t imagine,” and Blaise nodded deliriously and said, “You will.”

“Look who it is,” Millicent said with fake cheerfulness, leaving Blaise and Scorpius’s father and squatting down in front of Scorpius. “I heard you made Slytherin today.”

Scorpius’s mother pulled back and kissed the top of his forehead. “Stay close, darling, okay?”

“I’ll be with him,” Millicent confirmed as she walked over to join Blaise and Scorpius’s dad. Millicent sighed and then hugged Scorpius tightly. “They’re not as bad as they seem.”

“My parents?” Scorpius asked, completely confused.

Millicent smiled. “No, your - your classmates, Scorpius. It’s really hard to like someone just because you got the same label on the first night you met, but it’s really difficult not to love someone after you’ve spent seven years together. That’s how the Houses work.” Her lip trembled, and Scorpius wanted to cry with her. “Because seven years is a really long time to get to know a person without falling in love with them.” 

Scorpius stared past her at where Blaise Zabini was cradling his sobbing mother while tears streaked his face and he held a dark, understanding eye contact with Scorpius’s father over her head. He remembered what his father had said about Blaise when Scorpius had asked - that they never saw him because Blaise had betrayed some people who were very important to Scorpius’s father. He hoped that whatever it was that Blaise had done was truly forgiven because they both seemed very relieved to have each other back in their lives. 

Scorpius looked around, realizing with an intentionally detached interest that this was what had become of his father’s Slytherin class. Scorpius’s dad and Blaise Zabini were the only free boys; Vincent Crabbe had died during the Battle of Hogwarts, and Theodore Nott and Gregory Goyle were rotting in Azkaban. Millicent Flint and Daphne Zabini were the only girls that Scorpius’s father had ever associated with while he was alive. Two girls that Scorpius had only heard of through old school records, Pansy Parkinson and Tracey Davis, had both fled the country after the war, and he thought back on Emmanuel’s claim that only Voldemort supporters left Britain after the war. 

With the same uncanny timing as the twins, the fire of the Zabini foyer flared to life, and a tall, dark-haired woman stumbled out of it. She stood up and brushed off her robes, affixing a completely manufactured, serene-yet-dismissive look to her face before she surveyed the occupants of the room. Her gaze landed on Scorpius, and he gasped and stepped back from Millicent. “You’re Adelaide and Rhiannon’s mum.”

Millicent choked and cried, “What are you doing here, you stupid cunt?” before pulling her into a bone-crushing hug that got the attention of Blaise, Marcus, and Scorpius’s parents.

“Pansy?” Scorpius’s dad asked in a voice of pure disbelief. “How - how are you - why - how did you even know we were here?”

“Hello, Draco,” Pansy Moore, née Parkinson, said sweetly as she stepped away from Millicent. “Oh, Blaise, honey, how are you doing?”

“Pretty fucking awful, Pans,” Blaise murmured without pulling away from Scorpius’s mother. He rocked her back and forth. 

Pansy lingered by the fire before catching Scorpius’s dad’s eye in the right way and rushing into his arms. They did the same sort of newly-reconciled, grief-addled speech as Blaise and Scorpius’s dad had with Pansy saying things like _“you piece of shit, you never reached out, I waited for years, I missed you!”_ and Scorpius’s dad responding with things like, _“You’re so bloody dramatic. You could have reached out, but you were doing fine without me.”_

Millicent sat down cross-legged in front of Scorpius and looked at him expectantly. He raised an eyebrow, and she asked, “Well? Did you say _the_ Miss Pansy Parkinson has children in your year? Tell me everything.”

Scorpius smiled weakly. “I didn’t - they don’t like me. They stormed into the boys’ dorm and were yelling about how beautiful they were while Emmanuel Burke insulted them and everyone else hid?”

“Oh,” said Marcus. “Sounds like Emmanuel has a crush on a Pansy child, huh?”

“No, he was being really mean,” Scorpius said.

“Yeah, that means he likes her,” Marcus said like this should be abundantly obvious. “Merlin, Scorp, learn to be eleven. Sounds like Draco and Granger to me.”

Scorpius’s dad extracted himself from Pansy to protest, “I never liked Hermione Granger.”

“Yeah, Marcus, you mean Draco and Potter,” Pansy corrected. “And who was this son of a bitch insulting my beautiful daughters?”

“Emmanuel Burke,” said Draco. “Caracataculus Burke’s grandson. He just got sorted.”

“That cannot have been his real name,” Pansy said.

“It isn’t,” said Blaise. “Caractacus.” 

“Does anyone know what a Lannister is?” Scorpius asked loudly, very relieved that the adults seemed to have calmed down. None of the revelations provided by his father’s classmates were striking him as especially important, although in the coming years he would consider what Pansy meant by ‘Draco and Potter’ and how Marcus could so bluntly (and accurately) proclaim with little information that one student liked another.

If he learned anything over the next seven years, it’s that mourning was a constant fluctuation between gut-wrenching sobs, dead-inside apathy, blinding rage, truly hysterical laughter, and inappropriately-timed humor. As his first real experience with grief, he could only be happy that everyone had a hesitant smile on their faces, and the genuine happiness of the Blaise and Pansy reconciliations were palpable. If Scorpius’s school anecdotes helped, he’d recount the entire night.

He did end up recounting the whole night. No one knew what the Lannisters were, but both Pansy and his father promised that they would find out the answer, so Scorpius filtered the claim that his father was Joffrey. In fact, that was the only information he filtered other than Albus’s ability to overhear conversations, and Marcus began to say, after Scorpius was finished with his tale (which took a very long time as all of the adults interrupted him with childish frequency), “So Albus Severus clearly likes --”

Scorpius’s mum faked a hacking cough, and his father said, very loudly, “Oh, darling, do you need some water? Scorpius.”

“Right!” Scorpius jumped up. “Consider me a House-elf!”

“Great message to send, Draco,” Pansy said.

“We love House-elves in the Malfoy household,” Scorpius's mum said in a voice dripping with irony while Scorpius scampered off to grab water for his mother. 

When he got back, Marcus grunted, “Albus Severus sounds like a good kid.”

“Just Albus, actually!” Scorpius corrected as he passed his mother the water. “That’s a nasty fake cough you have, mother.”

Pansy snorted loudly. “Brilliant child. I counselled the girls wrong.”

He had quite a nice time chatting with the Slytherin alumni, gathered on the couches around the fire. He snuggled up under his mother’s arm, and she rested her chin on the top of his head while they reminisced about Hogwarts and asked Scorpius frequent questions about his own sorting experience. It made him feel newly optimistic for his House. With the overpowering grief whitewashed from the picture, he could see himself one day reflecting back on their Hogwarts experiences with Albus, Emmanuel, Stuart, Ezra, Adelaide, Rhiannon, and the other three. He imagined briefly snuggling up under Albus’s arm and wished that, if the circumstances were different, he could have spent the night in the safety of Albus’s four-poster. It felt as if a protective bubble had been popped on his very first night. He wondered if Albus would wake up, disoriented and confused about where Scorpius had gone. 

When the sun had risen and it was time for his father to bring him back to Hogwarts, his mother kissed his forehead and whispered, “Thank you for being here, sweetie.”

Scorpius was half-delirious from exhaustion and said, as if the comment was very weird, “I always want to be where you are.”

He felt her lips curl up in a smile against his forehead. “I love you more than you could possibly imagine.”

His father yawned and said, hazy-eyed, “The best thing we’ve ever done. Come on, Scorp. We need to get back to school. You should have a few hours to sleep before your first day of classes.”

As Scorpius’s father guided him to the fire, Marcus Flint called, “Enjoy your bed, Scorpius!” and was shushed by multiple people.

Blaise Zabini intercepted him a foot away from the fire and said, in a voice dripping with conviction, “It is so good to get to know you, Scorpius. You’re ahead of your time. Don’t lower yourself to meet the kids around you, okay? Let them catch up.”

“Okay, yeah, I can do that,” Scorpius said vaguely.

“He’s exhausted, Blaise,” his father chided. “Compliment and advise later.”

Blaise hugged him suddenly and said, as he had to his father and for a reason Scorpius did not yet understand, “I’m so sorry.”


	8. The Slytherin Squib (September 2013)

Scorpius tiptoed into his dormitory early that morning to find his dormmates all awake and discussing his conspicuous absence. Scorpius hadn’t looked in a mirror but could feel how wan he must have appeared to them and just wanted the chance to shower before his first day of classes. 

His hopes were dashed by Ezra, Stuart, and Emmanuel bombarding him with questions the moment the floorboards creak to announce his entrance. Scorpius staggered back in surprise under the barrage of “where did you go?” and “why did you leave?” and “did I dream that magnificent ogre of a man? Stu said he saw him too!” 

Albus was sitting cross-legged on his bed looking especially small in an oversized, faded Quidditch t-shirt and pair of threadbare sweatpants with the tightly knotted drawstring jutting out through the fabric over his navel. His hair, always notably cowlicky, was now especially tousled and sticking up in odd places. He was too busy rubbing sleep out of his eyes to notice Scorpius staring at him, and by the time he’d looked up, Scorpius had collected himself enough to smile back at him hesitantly and compartmentalize his sudden interest in Albus’s appearance for another day. 

The other boys were all wearing clothes and hair and stuff. Ezra might have a retainer. That was about as much as Scorpius absorbed.

If Albus found Scorpius’s singular focus to be weird, he did not let on and just watched him curiously until Scorpius blinked and looked up at Ezra. “I - where did I - that was my uncle, Marcus Flint. You didn’t dream him up, Ezra. He’s - yeah, he’s part troll.”

“I told you,” Stuart said. “Quidditch god. Complete monster on the pitch.”

“I still don’t believe you’re describing a real sport,” Ezra told him. “And you say that it’s your _only_ sport? You must think I’m really gullible.”

“We’ll have flying lessons on Thursday,” said Stuart. “Then you’ll have to believe me.”

“I don’t want to believe you.” Ezra sighed and hopped up. “Get yourself cleaned up, Scorpius. You guys are reflecting on Slytherin, which in turn reflects on me. You too, Emmanuel. Stuart, do wizards use deodorant? Congratulations - you’ve hit puberty, hard. Albus, brush your hair.”

“I’ll give it my best, but it’s not going to do much good,” Albus confessed as Emmanuel sputtered and Stuart demanded, “Who do you think you are, my mum?”

“No, because your mum clearly didn’t tell you to start wearing deodorant, did she? I’m better.” Ezra clapped his hands. “Come on, everyone! Get to it! We have Potions with the Gryffindors after breakfast, and while I don’t fully understand what that means, I understand that they are our rivals, and I’m used to playing two sports a season. This is my only outlet now. If anyone makes me look bad by proxy, there will be hell to pay.”

Stuart yawned and caught the stick of deodorant that Ezra threw at him. “Fine, path of least resistance.”

*

Albus caught up with Scorpius after he’d showered and Albus had washed his face and made an admirable attempt at brushing his hair. They lingered behind the other Slytherins as they traipsed up to the Great Hall, and after deeming it to be a safe distance, Albus whispered, “So where did you go? Really great job deflecting.”

“Ezra did all the deflecting for me, really. Great job pretending to use a hairbrush. Expert miming.”

“I did use a hairbrush! It falls like this naturally! You know it - oh, I get it. You’re deflecting again.”

Scorpius’s smile faded. “My aunt died.”

“Oh,” said Albus. “You want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly, no. Maybe later. Not right now.”

“Okay.” Albus stretched his arms awkwardly. “Deflect all you want then.”

He thought Albus might be considering offering him a hug, which Scorpius would have gladly accepted if he didn’t have to keep it together around the hundreds of students pouring into the Great Hall. Actually, being discovered crying and hugging Albus Potter would probably be a really powerful way of dispelling the Voldemort rumors, but he didn’t have a chance to change his mind before a boy called, “Al! Al, hey, wait up,” and James Potter and Teddy Lupin jogged up to meet them.

James didn’t look anything like Albus. He followed in the grand Weasley tradition - tall and lanky with freckles and bright red hair. Albus was short and skinny with dark hair and clear skin; if their parents hadn’t been the most famous couple in the Wizarding World, it would be difficult to find any family resemblance in the two of them. Teddy, of course, was unrelated to the Potters and didn’t resemble any specific person as much as an assemblage of his preferred traits. Scorpius hadn’t met him more than four or five times, but he appeared to favor long hair of varying eye-catching colors with an androgynous bone structure. 

“Can you gain weight?” Scorpius blurted out. He usually had at least one metamorphmagus-related question for every time he saw Teddy. “What does growing mean to you?”

Teddy smacked him on the shoulder. “Good to see you too, Scorpius.”

James extended a hand. “James Potter. Nice to meet you.”

Scorpius shook his hand eagerly. “Yeah, I - I know who you are.”

James nodded. “I find I look like less of a prat if I don’t waltz around assuming everyone already knows who I am. You’re Scorpius Malfoy.”

Scorpius retracted his hand. “Yeah, I don’t really feel like a prat for assuming people know my name.”

James smiled. “No, I guess you wouldn’t, would you?” He focused back on Albus. “So?”

“Hm?” Albus asked.

“Come on, Al. How’s it been? How are the baby snakes treating you?”

“They’re fine,” Albus mumbled. “Not really my concern at this point. We have two classes with the Gryffindors today. Three total.”

James nodded quickly, and Teddy said, “Yeah, Potions, Defense, and Herbology. You’ll have it with them every year. None of the other professors are willing to take the Slytherins and Gryffindors together.”

“What do you have with Hufflepuff?” 

Albus patted his robes for a schedule then gave up before Scorpius was about to jump in with the answer. “Er - Charms, Transfiguration, and Flying. So Astronomy, History of Magic, and Muggle Studies with the Ravenclaws.”

James brightened up. “That’s great though!”

Albus narrowed his eyes. “Why is that great?”

“Because Hufflepuff is the best House, and you’ll do most of your spellwork with them. The only other practical spell-based class is dad’s. Don’t look at me like that! I’m not trying to insult you.”

“How is your dad’s class?” Scorpius asked quickly before Albus could start to get upset about his low affinity for spellwork.

Teddy and James exchanged a look, and Teddy said, very diplomatically, “People like it a lot - being taught by Harry Potter. And if the thing you need to defend yourself from is a dark wizard, then he’s got you covered. Seventh years say you’ve basically gone through auror training by the time you’ve gotten your NEWTs.”

“But if you’re interested in, oh, say, theory or dark creatures or dark artifacts, then you… don’t really do that,” said James. “He assigns a lot of readings but never tests on them so no one ever does them.”

“Assuming I get the OWLs and NEWTs to be an auror, I’ll be so ready, but I am pissing my pants for OWLs this year,” added Teddy. “What’s an Erkling? No one knows.”

Scorpius opened his mouth, and Teddy said, “Rhetorical, Scorpius. Rhetorical question.”

“People learn the Patronus really young though,” said James. “Most people have it by fourth or fifth year - that’s cool. Teddy got theirs last year. It’s a flying squirrel. I have absolutely no idea what that means about them as a person, but it’s wicked.”

Teddy raised his - their? Scorpius would confer later with Albus - eyebrows and said, “It was so clear that everyone was expecting a wolf, and then to get such a… difficult to attribute creature. Hilarious.”

“Or some fish or amphibian critter that can metamorphose,” agreed James. “I think everyone was on the same page that they just did not expect it to be a flying squirrel.”

Teddy grinned at them. “He also does a lot of interdisciplinary subjects that people really like! Professor Longbottom pops by for duelling lessons throughout second and third year, and Professor Malfoy starts offering Occlumency lessons for students starting third or fourth year. There are units with the Muggle Studies, History of Magic, and Care of Magical Creatures when you get older. It’s great. It is great,” Teddy said with possibly too much conviction. “It’s great.”

“How’s Neville?” Albus asked.

“Professor Longbottom, Al. He’s actually incredible.” James nudged Teddy for confirmation. ”The guy’s got some real gravitas.”

“What can be said about Professor Longbottom that hasn’t already been said? He’s great at his subject and makes you like it. He’s funny, a war hero, and easy on the eyes, so if you can get over all the girls giggling in class for most of his lectures, he has a lot of knowledge to impart.”

“Girls giggling is also a big issue in dad’s class, though, and they do not hold back just because his son’s in the room,” James said wisely. “Girls be giggling.”

Teddy grimaced. “It’s an issue across the board really - the giggling. The professors hired after the war were all really young. In our parents’ days, they were taught by a bunch of asexual old people.”

“Didn’t your dad teach our parents?” Scorpius asked politely.

Teddy beamed at Scorpius. “You’re in for it though. You’ve got a couple years since he’s not a war hero so people need to, er, _awaken,_ but just wait til fourth or fifth year - the Draco Malfoy fan club is the craziest by far.”

“All love potions had to be wiped from the curriculum,” said James. “Not just brewing. We’re talking about any references to love potions - gone.”

“No, you do learn antidotes,” corrected Teddy. “Fourth year, and then if you ask him what it’s the antidote for, he puts on that scary face that he clearly practices in the mirror.”

“Maybe billows his robe a bit, yeah,” agreed James. “It’s really easy to see when he’s trying to be intimidating.”

“It works though. He intimidates. The amount that the students are afraid of him really shows none of them have ever read a well-detailed, objective account of the war - no offense, Scorpius.” Teddy studied his face then said, “It’s not a bad thing! He’s one of my favorite professors! Truly, he’s great at the subject.”

“And he’s so determined to seem fair and reformed that he comes down on the pure-bloods really, really hard at the beginning. It’s an absolute delight to watch their expectations shatter.” James put a hand on Scorpius’s shoulder. “You’ve got Potions first though. You’ll see.”

“Any pure-blooded brats in your class, Al?” Teddy asked.

“Sh, Teddy, he’s right there,” Albus whispered, and Scorpius frowned at his shoes while Teddy cracked a grin and James burst out laughing. “No, they’re - most people seem fine. Emmanuel Burke is related to one of the Borgin and Burke’s founders, and there are these two girls with American accents that are a lot, but I think they like me right now.” 

James clapped his hands decisively. “Okay, you should eat before your first day. Let me know if anyone is being a prat to either of you, and you’re always welcome at the Hufflepuff table, ya hear? Don’t be strangers.”

“Who would be a prat to either of us?” Albus asked sarcastically. He lowered his eyes and mumbled, “Thank you, James.”

Teddy hugged Albus quickly and whispered, “Good luck,” before leading James away so that Albus could enter without the full extended Potter entourage.

They both frowned at each other for a moment before Scorpius broke the silence with a worried, “Draco Malfoy fan club?” and Albus repeated, sounding very gloomy, “Girls be giggling.”

*

Albus did an excellent job masking his anxiety about performing magic in front of his classmates until he and Scorpius were sitting in the Potions classroom. Scorpius watched the Gryffindors file in and carefully avoided his father’s eyes, and Albus frowned down at his textbook and carefully avoided his cousin’s eyes. In the rows behind them, the other Slytherins were laughing and chatting loudly, mostly ignoring Scorpius and Albus other than Ezra, who knocked on Scorpius’s shoulder and leaned forward to whisper, “Is your dad going to introduce himself to us as our Head of House?”

“I think he’ll make himself known when it comes up,” murmured Scorpius, who also thought it was strange that his father hadn’t been required to meet the newly-sorted Slytherins.

Ezra nodded and leaned back in his seat to size up Scorpius’s dad, who was flipping through a Potions quarterly circulation and pretending to ignore his students. The bell tolled on the hour, and he looked up to observe the students, his gaze slowing down on various members of the class as he assembled silent judgments, before he smiled and stood up. 

Scorpius wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. His dad wouldn’t give him any information, but having witnessed him preparing the curricula for the older years, he thought that they would jump straight into the deep end. He had been wrong; they were going to wade in very slowly, and Albus looked noticeably relieved as everyone was asked to tuck away their wands.

They spent most of the first period on safety, both basic protocol and a theoretical lecture on how different classes of ingredients would react together and how they should be stored. Apparently all subjects were designed to be more interdisciplinary, and there was a murmur of approval from the Gryffindors when it was announced that their Potions labs would be synchronized with their Herbology classes to get an end-to-end exploration of how to harvest, prepare, and use different common ingredients. 

Eventually, Yann Fredericks raised his hand and demanded, “Are we just going to spend the whole day talking about safety? It’s fairly intuitive.”

Scorpius’s dad nodded. “It is, Mr. Fredericks, and I’ll wait to take points from your house until after you inevitably crease a massive explosion in my classroom.” He looked down a few seats to point at Polly Chapman. “You. Show me your hands. Other side.”

Polly frowned as she flipped her hands around, and Yann rolled his eyes as he noticed where Scorpius’s dad was going with this. He looked over each student until his eyes landed on Adelaide and Rhiannon. “You, Ms. Moore - no, not you, Rhiannon, just Adelaide.”

Adelaide raised her hands guiltily to show off her bright pink nails.

Polly craned her neck to get a look at Adelaide then made an irritated noise. “I think it’s very unfair for you to single out only gi-”

“And you, Zephaniel Smith,” finished Scorpius’s dad. “All three of you. Hands up. Does anyone here happen to know what might happen if one were to wear nail polish while brewing an Herbicide or Wiggenweld Potion? Yes, Ms. Granger-Weasley.”

“It could flake off and react with the Horklump juice to create a noxious gas that paralyzes then kills all who inhale it!”

“Perfect, yes. Ten points to Gryffindor.”

Polly scowled. “Well, if it’s so important, then you should teach us that first.”

“I just did teach you that, Ms. Chapman. And I recall saying all hair should be tied back and no makeup should be worn in the lab less than twenty minutes ago.”

Zephaniel cleared his throat. “I’d like everyone to know that I’m not wearing nail polish. I am wearing a cuticle-strengthening base coat.”

“He’s wearing a cuticle-strengthening base coat,” Scorpius’s dad repeated for the class.

Polly hid her hands under her legs, blushing fiercely even as Rose gestured at her to shut up and cut her losses. “Look, you can’t just generalize us and call us out.”

“Right, generalizations. Can I see everyone else’s nails?”

The other seventeen students raised their hands to show off bare nails, and Scorpius’s dad raised an eyebrow. “You may make a complaint about my generalizations when they end up being wrong. For now,” he said and waved his wand to strip off their nail polishes. Adelaide and Zephaniel both yelped, and Polly made a pained hissing noise.

“That can’t have been good for your nails, Zeph,” commented Fitz Wood with teasing sympathy.

“Stripped off at least three coats,” Zephaniel muttered. “Now they’re going to grow in weird.”

“Okay, wonderful, that concludes our lesson on safety protocol. The first person to explode a potion, melt a cauldron, or in another way threaten the lives of your classmates due to a mistake that we have already covered will lose their house fifty points.”

Ezra’s hand shot in the air. “What about all the subsequent people to explode or melt?”

“Yes, Mr. Tobbins, the whole class likes the sound of your voice just as much as you do. Five points from Slytherin. We’ll move onto our first potion for the year, and as I don’t want the sacrifice of Mr. Smith’s nail coats to go to waste, we will start with a simple Herbicide Potion. The instructions are on the board, and you are welcome to start your homework early as your potions simmer.”

Albus gave Scorpius a long look to let him know that he was counting on him to take the reins with this assignment, which was reasonable as Scorpius had successfully brewed it before for his garden but ultimately was setting a bad precedent for their classroom collaborations. He delegated small tasks to Albus while, behind them, Ezra sang some muggle song while grinding up herbs for him and Stuart.

A bottle clattered on the Gryffindor side of the room and rolled across the floor. Scorpius felt it bump into his ankle, and Karl called, “Oi, Voldy, can you pass that to me?”

Scorpius’s dad’s head snapped up to find the source of the taunt. Scorpius, without thinking, reached down to pick it up. In the row in front of him, Emmanuel muttered, “Fucking hell, Scorpius, don’t _respond_ to it.”

“But I know who he’s referring to, and you call me that,” Scorpius whispered back.

“I’m not in Gryffindor!” Emmanuel hissed.

“Potter, Voldy, while we’re young,” Karl called, and Scorpius met his dad’s eyes briefly as he clearly struggled with whether or not he should do something.

Ezra clapped a hand on Scorpius’s shoulder and leaned forward to whisper, “I’ve got this. Just give him his bottle back.” He sat back and gave Scorpius’s dad a thumbs up that only confused him even more.

Scorpius tossed the bottle back to Karl while Yann whispered something like, “Karl, his dad is _right there!”_

_“Actually, his dad is-”_ and Scorpius’s ability to hear was obstructed by Rose coughing loudly and intentionally dropping some ingredients to the floor. 

There was a long, horrible silence while the students worked, then Ezra knocked on Scorpius conspiratorially and sat up to look into Karl and Yann’s cauldron. Scorpius frowned at Ezra, who struggled to hide a smile before calling, “Oi, Fredericks, Jenkins, you’re doing it wrong!”

“What?” Karl asked, eyes narrowing as he sought out Ezra.

“You’re making your potion wrong,” Ezra said slowly. “It’s never going to work like that.”

“Yeah?” said Yann. “What are we doing wrong?”

“You can’t stare at it. Cauldrons don’t boil when they’re being watched.”

Karl sneered at him. “And how would you even know, Tobbins? Aren’t you a mu-?”

“MUDBLOOD?” Ezra interrupted. At least half the class jumped in their seats, and Scorpius’s dad gaped at him in open disbelief. “What did you just call me?! What does that mean?”

Stuart slid down in his seat, trying not to burst out laughing as everyone else in the room boggled at his partner. “It’s a slur for wizards from muggle parents.”

“Wow,” declared Ezra. “Never, in all my day at this school, have I heard a word like that. I thought I was just like all of you! I feel so otherized - wow.”

“I - I didn’t say that word. I would never say that word!”

“Which word?” Stuart asked. 

“Mudblood! I didn’t-”

Scorpius’s dad looked genuinely impressed as he said, “Thirty points from Gryffindor for use of a vicious slur.”

“No, but I never actually said Mu-”

“Please, Karl, shut your mouth now,” Rose growled. 

“But I was just saying that I didn’t say it!”

Rose whirled around to glare at him. “He outsmarted you! Move on!”

“Professor Malfoy,” said Ezra. “I am upset and hurt. I have had a grave blow dealt to my self-esteem as a wizard. I thought we were all equal, but Karl here ripped that security away from me, and now I am-”

“-laying it on really thick, Mr. Tobbins,” finished Scorpius’s dad. “Another ten points from Gryffindor for the blow dealt to Ezra’s self-esteem.”

If ‘success’ was distracting the Gryffindors from how much they hated Scorpius, then Ezra’s stunt was a rousing success. It was unlikely to work more than once and definitely earned him the ire of most of the Gryffindors, especially Rose, who approached him after class to say, “Some people have actually really gotten hurt by that word.”

“Yeah,” said Ezra. “Me, just now. I’m Ezra, by the way.” He flashed a charming smile that did not sway Rose’s opinion one bit. She frowned at him and stalked away to join Polly and Fitz. Ezra watched her walk off then turned to the other Slytherins and announced, “We like her.”

“She’s Albus’s cousin,” Scorpius protested immediately, like this would warn Ezra off Rose Granger-Weasley forever.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ezra said. 

*

After Potions, they had Transfiguration with Professor Spinnet and History of Magic with Professor Binns. Professor Binns barely noticed that there were students present for his lecture, but Professor Spinnet pointedly did not seem predisposed to like Scorpius. She certainly had a visible preference for Albus, which made Albus even more embarrassed and frustrated when two classes had gone by without him ever succeeding in transfiguring his matchstick. James had made a good point, Scorpius realized after Albus failed to levitate his feather in Charms, that they were rather lucky that most of the classes requiring complicated spellwork were done with the Hufflepuffs. He wanted to assure Albus that he could do some rather incredible magic and that spell-work was not the be-all and end-all of magic, but Albus did not want to be comforted.

The nickname appeared on Thursday, coinciding with their first Defense lesson with the Gryffindors, and spread like wildfire throughout the three houses. By the end of the semester, even their fellow Slytherins would be using it on Albus, in a far less fond way than how they called Scorpius ‘Voldy’, but as with most of Albus’s struggles, it started with the Gryffindors and was born out of his incapacitating and self-fulfilling fear of disappointing his father. 

It had been such a nice night too, one of the last nights for years in which the Slytherin first year boys were fully united, before they decided that Scorpius was a cursed loser and Albus was high-profile deadweight. They’d had their first Astronomy class and had a good time commiserating while trudging up to the Astronomy Tower, complaining about the absurdity of eleven-year-olds being forced to wake up or stay up until midnight to look at stars. The jokes had started with Albus whining, “I’m just a little child,” after Ezra had ripped his blankets off him to wake him up. 

Like with Potions, Scorpius entered Astronomy with a pretty strong understanding of the subject. Certainly stronger than Stuart, who huffed and puffed as they neared the tower in foul moods and grumbled, “We’re all in retrograde tonight.”

“C’mon,” Ezra has said after the lesson was done. “It’s after Albus’s bedtime.”

“Fuck you,” Albus mumbled. “It’s after all of our bedtimes.”

“We’re just little kids,” Scorpius agreed solemnly.

Ezra yawned. “Yes, but it’s very important to me that we don’t risk stunting Albus’s growth.”

“You cannot have more than an inch on him,” said Emmanuel, the tallest boy in the year. “Don’t insult Albus’s height just to make you feel better about yourself.”

“I think that’s exactly how I’m supposed to feel better about myself,” said Ezra.

Their somewhat foul-humored, exhaustion-driven taunting was interrupted by a Ravenclaw Scorpius didn’t recognize calling, “Hey, Malfoy, you know your daddy did up here, don’t you?”

Ezra was the only boy to look confused as they watched her walk away, and Stuart whispered something to him before announcing, in a falsely chipper voice, “At least they think Professor Malfoy’s your dad! Now we go down, down, down.”

Albus nudged him as the other students stomped down ahead of them and quoted, in lieu of any comforting words, “Down, down, to goblin town.”

“Swish, smack,” Scorpius mumbled disconsolately, and Albus tried to smile at him. “Whip crack.”

Neither of them were in especially good moods in the morning. They had Defense first period, and Albus had already psyched himself out. Scorpius wanted to hope that it was going to go well for him, but his hands were shaking so badly that he could barely tuck his wand into his sleeve before leaving for breakfast. Scorpius, meanwhile, was struggling to reconcile with the knowledge that his classmates would hate him whether or not he was Voldemort’s son. And the more that he thought about it, what proof did he really have that he wasn’t Voldemort’s son? Professor Malfoy’s word? That word wasn’t good enough for anyone else.

It wasn’t that Scorpius didn’t sympathize with Albus’s struggles. It just, to Scorpius, seemed like being Harry Potter’s son would be a welcome relief. He could sympathize with a lot of Albus’s problems - he had really low self-confidence and hearing every negative thing that had ever been said about him couldn’t have helped. It would be hard for anyone to perform under that stress, but Scorpius just didn’t think that it was Harry Potter’s fault, that’s all. 

Albus couldn’t meet his eyes as he entered the classroom, and Harry Potter didn’t seek them out. The other professors had probably reported that Albus had not yet successfully completed a single assignment. He watched the students enter the room until everyone was sitting down and staring at him with wide eyes. Like both Professor Longbottom and Scorpius’s father had, Harry Potter launched straight into a description of course logistics, which Scorpius now realized was the technique they had developed for avoiding personal questions. 

“Alright,” said Professor Potter after he’d finished describing the curriculum. He said everything just slightly faster than the other professors, probably because he already had a great deal of experience with being interrupted by his students. “Today, we are going to start with whatIconsidertobethemostimportantspellforbeginnersanditistheShieldCharm.”

“Oh, really?” Adelaide called. “Not-”

“The Shield Charm, Ms. Moore. The _Shield Charm_ is the most important spell you will learn this year.”

Rose raised a hand. “So which year are we going to learn how to-?”

“The _Shield Charm_ \- and if you have any questions about the _Shield Charm,_ please feel free to raise your hands - has so many variations that we could easily spend a month going over all of them. We’re going to focus on the simplest version. The incantation is _Protego._ If you are interested in reading more about the variations, you can find the section in your textbook on page… using the index. The Shield Charm has always been considered rather advanced and has previously been reserved for your fourth or fifth year, but I personally believe you have no business casting spells without knowing how to block them.”

“Or we could just deflect th-”

“Next, Mr. Smith. You will learn how to disarm _next._ It really doesn’t bear any more discussion.” Harry Potter stopped and smiled at the room. “We have so many questions on the Battle of Hogwarts every year that Professor Binns has very graciously worked both the battle itself and wandlore in general into the History of Magic curriculum. So if you have any burning questions, rest assured: Professor Binns will have the answer.”

“That’s cold, Professor Potter,” Karl muttered. 

Fitz Wood nodded. “Ice cold.”

“Why is everyone so thirsty for disarming?” Ezra whispered to Stuart, who mimed something that included pointing at Scorpius and slitting his throat before giving up and saying, “I’ll explain after class.”

Rose raised her hand again, and Professor Potter faltered. “Am I going to regret it if I call on you?”

She widened her eyes innocently. “Hm? What? Battle of Hogwarts? Never heard of it. No, I want to know what we’re going to shield against if it’s the first spell we learn.”

“Oh, that’s - yeah, that’s a perfect segue.”

“Thank you for trusting me.”

“You will be shielding against simple, completely inert sparks, which I guess means that sparks will be the first spell you learn, technically speaking. You’ll be able to see the sparks redirect as they hit your successful Shield Charms. Being able to send up sparks is really useful as a cry for help, like a muggle flare for anyone acquainted. We’ll start practicing with just firing sparks. I’ll give the incantation for either red or green sparks, and I really look forward to everyone surprising me with their color choice.”

*

“I can’t do this,” Albus moaned to Scorpius once the class started to file out. “I can’t! I’m not a wizard! I’m not a wizard, so I can’t do magic.”

“Albus, you are a wizard. You’re a good wizard! You’re just…”

“Not good enough to fire sparks from my wand?”

“If no one was watching, you would have gotten it.”

“Maybe I have the wrong wand? Maybe it chose me but then got cold feet. Maybe it’s going to leave me for someone who can fulfill its magical needs, like Rose.”

“Hm? Rose?” Scorpius asked, wondering if he was still caught up with the conversation. “Why her?”

“Because she’s the best in our year,” Albus muttered. “And my dad likes her better.”

“He doesn’t like her better. You only think that because she actually participated, so your dad had a reason to talk to her. He joked around with everyone who talked to him. Even Adelaide and Rhiannon, and I heard their mum tried to sell him out to Voldemort.”

“Did you look at his face when I couldn’t get even a wispy little shield like Emmanuel?”

“I, well, no, actually. I didn’t look. Did you?”

“No, I couldn’t bring myself to do it,” Albus muttered.

“Albus Potter,” Karl called smugly as he sauntered up flanked by Yann, Zephaniel, and Polly. Down the hall, Rose and Fitz were watching the other Gryffindors with guarded expressions, and Scorpius could have sworn he saw a flicker of guilt cross Rose’s face as it had when the same four students had a go at him for being Voldemort’s son. It frustrated him in a different way, to see that she was decent enough to disapprove of bullying but not to stop it. “I heard about it from the Hufflepuffs, but I really couldn’t believe it til I saw it myself. You really are a Squib! The Slytherin Squib.”

Scorpius glanced over at the other Slytherins, who were watching with open annoyance but refrained from jumping in for Albus’s aid. Even Ezra, who had so confidently assured Scorpius that he would get Karl and Yann back for their Voldemort comments, looked hesitant, as if he wasn’t quite sure if Albus Severus Potter was worth his time. Adelaide and Rhiannon, who had both previously shown genuine interest in getting to know him, were both now looking at the ground like they no longer wished to show any connection to Albus.

For a moment, Scorpius felt a rush of fury so strong that he could barely believe he stayed silent. It swept through him, tightening up his heart and stomach, making his pulse race and blood thunder in his ears. It swept up his entire sense of self. It just wanted to make these arrogant fuckwits hurt. 

And then he remembered who he was and that he would never hurt anyone. It wasn’t in his nature, and if he ever lashed out at anyone, it would only fuel every rumor that surrounded his existence. It would make his parents look bad - evil, actually. It would be evidence used to support anyone who ever wished to condemn a child for their father’s crimes. As his hand clenched around his wand, he had his next perception-altering realization of the week: He would _never_ be allowed to fight back, even if he wanted to. He could only avoid trouble and hope that maybe people would be open to changing their opinions of him as they got older and more mature.

The thumping in his ears quieted down for him to hear Yann asking, “Who do you think was more embarrassed in there, Slytherin Squib? You or your dad?”

Albus opened his mouth, and Scorpius grabbed his hand to drag him down the hall towards the stairs to the dungeons. Someone shouted what was probably a very clever Voldemort and Potter joke that Scorpius had certainly not already heard in the four days since he’d started school. Albus was quaking with anger and humiliation, and Scorpius did not let go of his hand as he led him to the potions office and threw it open without knocking.

His dad started and looked up in horror. Had he just been sitting with his head lying on his desk? How long had he been there? That was a concern for another day because Albus finally found his voice to shout, “I _hate_ them!”

His dad’s eyes widened. “What happened?”

“The Gryffindors are so terrible!” Scorpius shouted too. “They’re brave enough to bully other students?”

“The Slytherins didn’t help either! You didn’t help!”

“I couldn’t help, Albus! I’m Voldemort’s son! If I lashed out, it wouldn’t really help me with my problem, and it wouldn’t help you with yours, either!”

Scorpius’s dad gaped at them as they both shouted their frustrations then pointed at Albus and said, “You. Tell me what happened.”

Albus recounted the story, and if Scorpius’s dad had any opinions about Albus failing to levitate a feather or shoot sparks or transfigure a match, he didn’t show it. He nodded thoughtfully as Albus lost the train of his rant a few times then said, after Albus had finished venting and instead focused on catching his breath, “Okay, your dad isn’t embarrassed of you, Albus. He’d be much more embarrassed of you if you were ganging up on other students in the halls. You, Scorpius, did exactly the right thing.”

“I didn’t do anything,” said Scorpius, who was growing increasingly certain that he should have stood up for Albus. “I didn’t help at all!”

“You got out of there. If I’d been in either of your positions, I would have certainly risen to the bait.”

Scorpius took a deep breath. “I just felt like if I did anything - anything at all - it would make me look awful, even if provoked.”

He looked at his father, expecting to have him deny this belief and assure him that he should always stick up for himself and his friends, but he just nodded and said, “That’s very rational.”

Albus, who probably had actually received the speech Scorpius had anticipated on sticking up for friends from his parents, gaped at Scorpius’s dad. He looked between Scorpius and his father like he was just realizing that they had a different family dynamic than the Potters, and Scorpius’s dad continued as if Albus wasn’t there, “I remember when I realized that. I lost my wand temporarily after the Trials, and my mother didn’t want me to go to the Hogwarts reconstruction without one. I still wanted to go, and I realized that even if I had a wand, the idea that I could ever use it against anyone was ludicrous. I’d just barely evaded a much longer Azkaban sentence due to Harry Potter’s testimony, and my freedom was so tenuous. I couldn’t risk anything that could be construed as dark or aggressive.”

Albus was very pale, and Scorpius realized that, unless he’d gotten this information from his father, which he clearly hadn’t, then all of this was new to him. He had the same general awareness as most of the public of Scorpius’s dad’s role during the war - youngest Death Eater, assigned to kill Dumbledore, hosted Voldemort in the Manor. He probably hadn’t put much thought into how the Malfoys had gotten punished or what, exactly, they had done to deserve that punishment. He seemed especially shaken by the idea that Scorpius’s dad could have seen the inside of Azkaban. 

“Did anyone hex you?” Scorpius asked, worried his dad would take offense from Albus’s shock.

His dad smiled slightly. “No, Blaise and Millicent showed up to go with me. We weren’t friends yet - most of Slytherin did not actually like me much, but they didn’t want anyone to mess with me just because they could. They had both stayed pretty clean during the war. Harry intercepted a few pissed Ravenclaws too. I still didn’t leave the Manor for a long time afterwards, just because of how nasty it could have gotten without Blaise and Millicent and Albus’s dad there.”

“What about now?” Albus asked suddenly. “What would you do if someone attacked you now?”

Scorpius’s dad paused as he thought this over. “I have confidence that the only people that I think would actually pose a risk are all very far above engaging in such petty fights. No one’s hexing their classmates or coworkers in the halls in their thirties. They’re - they’re real though, when you’re younger - the threats. Kids can do some real damage without understanding what they’re doing.”

“Did you get in a lot of fights?”

“You mean did I challenge someone to a formal wizard’s duel in my first month at Hogwarts? Yes, I got in a lot of fights.”

Albus nodded thoughtfully. “And did you win them?”

“I - some of them. None against your dad, if that’s your question.”

“It was,” Albus confirmed. “So you don’t really have a lot of advice to offer.”

Scorpius’s dad’s eyebrows shot up, then he smiled widely. “I thought I was here to commiserate. You - what do you want, Albus? You want to take down Harry Potter in a duel? You’re not going to do magic that he can’t, at least not in terms of Defense. Try brewing one potion correctly or, I don’t know, learning a fact.”

“He couldn’t remember what page Shield Charms were on in the textbook,” Scorpius whispered to his dad.

His face lit up. “What? Really? Thank you for telling me that.”

“I don’t need to be better than my dad,” Albus whined. “I just - if the Gryffindors threaten me, and Scorpius here is too busy being not-evil to help me, I want to be able to defend myself.”

“Oh,” said Scorpius’s dad. “You want to be able to beat the little Gryffindor brats in a fight? That’s a much simpler request.”

“They’re not all brats,” Scorpius said.

“I know which ones he’s talking about,” Scorpius’s dad said breezily. He had his fingers interlaced and was leaning across his desk to look at Albus more closely, like he was beginning to get intrigued by this conversation. “Did they threaten you?”

“No, they’re just cunts,” Albus muttered. 

“Okay,” said Scorpius’s dad. “So what would you do if one of them tried to engage you in a fight?”

Scorpius watched with great interest as the blood drained from Albus’s face at just the thought of trying to use a spell against them. He was sorry to think that Albus’s odds of surviving a fight were slim, but his dad seemed unperturbed. “What would you do if Scorpius tried to fight you, or if you wanted to attack Scorpius?”

“Scorpius wouldn’t try to fight me,” Albus said. “You just said that.”

Scorpius’s dad smiled. “Yes, exactly. The moment Scorpius throws a hex, he’s lost the fight, because he has more at stake than you do. You, though - you’re Albus fucking Potter. People want to be on your side.”

“How is this helpful? Scorpius is a special case. He could beat any of those kids if he would let himself.”

“Thank you?” said Scorpius in case they’d forgotten he was there.

“In Defense Against the Dark Arts, you’re going to learn a set number of spells. Some people will be better at some spells than others. Some students might have a stronger shield charm or an especially nasty Bat-Bogey Hex. Here’s a question, though: Do you think your dad was stronger magically-speaking than Voldemort? Do you think he knew more magic than Voldemort? Scorpius, cover your ears.”

“I - yes?” said Albus. “He won?”

“He did win. If he and Voldemort were to both cast a shield, his shield would have been much stronger than the darkest, deadliest wizard of the age?”

“No,” said Albus. “Probably not that.”

“His disarming spell was so unbelievably powerful that it was just stronger than Voldemort’s killing curse?”

“No, Voldemort’s wand was answering to my dad,” said Albus. “And he had power that which - wait, no - power of which… power which…”

“Power that the Dark Lord knows not,” Scorpius supplied helpfully. He didn’t much like where his dad was going with this but was happy to answer trivia questions at any point. “That was it.”

“Exactly,” said Scorpius’s dad. “So he knew he had the higher ground going in. He knew why Voldemort was going to mess up, what he didn’t understand, and how it would allow him to win. The spells, the magic - in the end, that wasn’t super relevant. He took on an opponent who any objective source would probably agree was much stronger than he was, but he won because brute magical power doesn’t win a fight. And if you had to fight someone like Scorpius, it wouldn’t matter that Scorpius can cast more spells than you or has more duelling training, because Scorpius would never want to fight back. You’re the Potter kid, and he’s the Malfoy kid. Do you get what I’m saying?”

“That I could kick Scorpius’s arse, yeah.”

“He’s saying know your enemy,” Scorpius murmured. “It’s like what Ezra did with Karl - if you wanted to beat me in a fight, you’d just need to get me to lash out, and I’d have already done much more damage to myself than your spells would ever do.”

“It’s all about finding weaknesses and exploiting them, the kind of quick judgment call that leads someone to realize, for example, that Zacharias Smith’s son definitely wears nail polish. The more people you meet and observe and fight, the more you’re going to be able to pinpoint opponents’ weaknesses.”

Scorpius wrinkled his nose. “It really mostly sounds like you’re appropriating Laozi in order to advise us to fight dirty, dad.”

“No, Scorpius,” Albus said. “He’s not telling _us_ to fight dirty. Because you can’t get away with it.”

Scorpius’s dad held out a hand and said, “Know yourself.”

Albus clasped his hand, and Scorpius moaned, “This is just Laozi, dad! Except horrible!”

Albus beamed at Scorpius’s dad. “Teach me to fight like a Malfoy.”


	9. Polyjuice (October 2015)

By the beginning of their third year, Scorpius and Albus were well and truly outcasts - in Slytherin, in Hogwarts, and, for Albus, in his entire extended family. The Slytherins tried their very hardest to get along with Scorpius out of respect for Professor Malfoy. The rumors about his birth didn’t turn them off, but Scorpius was widely and accurately considered to be a dork, a pushover, and a lightning rod for the scorn of the other houses. Even these truths might not have been so damning if any of the Slytherins could stand Albus. Unfortunately, Albus only got mopier and more dramatic with age, and by the time he showed up on his first day of third year after allegedly snapping his own wand during an argument with his father, only Ezra even responded to him, and his response was, “Jesus Christ, Albus.”

Albus seemed determined to force his entire family away from him. The only person who continued to make an effort was Teddy Lupin, and they very conspicuously always waited until Scorpius was present to approach him because Scorpius could offer a small grounding influence on Albus. James looked very sad to ignore him and was never cruel, but his Gryffindor cousins had fully disavowed Albus. At least one new Weasley arrived every year, and not a single one was sorted into Slytherin with Albus.

The Gryffindors got their Potter when Lily came along, and if Scorpius had been in a place to find anything funny at the sorting, he might have enjoyed the wary looks on all the professors’ faces as Lily lingered in front of the Gryffindor table with her hands raised proudly as if asking for even more applause, which they did deliver. She made the Quidditch team as seeker as a first year, won the first match for the Gryffindors, and returned to the pitch shouting, “I’M LILY FREAKING POTTER!” while Harry Potter was torn between smiling and hiding his head in his hands. Albus was miserable.

Albus gained some confidence from his occasional lessons with Scorpius’s dad throughout first and second year, enough to at least match Karl, Yann, and Zephaniel insult-for-insult. The Gryffindor boys were smart enough to avoid ever hexing Albus other than one memorable occasion towards the end of their second year when Yann tried to leave him in a body bind. Scorpius was shocked when, before he even had time to rush forward and free him, Albus shook it off. No one quite knew what to make of it, including Scorpius’s dad, who was the only adult to whom Albus relayed the story. 

Scorpius, because his dad seemed to have a moral qualm with testing spells on a twelve-year-old, had very magnanimously tried a few spells on Albus, and he easily threw off both body binds and silencing charms. When they went a bit overboard and tried a few minor hexes, they all landed, making Albus especially moody the rest of the day. Scorpius had pointed out that being able to shake off a binding spell so quickly was very impressive, and Albus had mumbled, “I’m sure my dad could do it faster.”

Scorpius’s dad had rubbed his jaw and neck the way he always did when he was thinking of a memory that he was not inclined to share with their sons and said, “No, your dad definitely cannot throw off a body bind.”

“Oh,” Albus had said. “Well, I guess it makes sense. I’m such a Squib that magic just rolls off me.”

Scorpius’s dad had frowned at him for a moment then said, “You have a very unique ability to always find the bad in things.”

Their lessons slowed down in the second then ended in the third year. Neither Scorpius nor his father had the same tolerance for Albus’s drama that they used to. Scorpius and his dad spent most evenings in his second year returning to Malfoy Manor to spend time with Scorpius’s mum. They had no reason to go back to the Manor in the third year; Scorpius spent most of his time lying in bed and staring blindly at the pages of a book, and his dad became very quiet, even in lessons. 

A lot of people came to the funeral, which would have been very touching except Scorpius could barely focus on anyone around him. Many people loved his mother. Rose’s parents had showed up without Rose, and Albus had come with Teddy Lupin and Teddy’s grandmother. Even Emmanuel Burke had shown up, along with Ezra and Stuart, to shake Scorpius’s hand and say, “I know how you feel, and I’m not going to be able to say anything to make it better, but I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Millicent and Blaise both flanked his father like a sticking charm the entire day, and Scorpius sat in the front row, clinging to Albus’s wrist and palm with both hands while Albus rested his head on his shoulder and neither of them spoke. He felt like the only person who was real, who Scorpius could be alone with, and Scorpius had barely noticed the way Albus kept shooting fleeting glances at him, eyes flicking over his face before looking down at his feet and widening like he was horrified with himself. Albus had become a lot more respectful about his own family drama for a long time after Scorpius’s mother died; the wand-snapping incident was the first time that Albus directed the attention back to himself.

The miniature in-class duelling tournament was announced in their Defense class a few weeks into the semester, and Albus was once again prepared to make it all about himself. He flopped down onto Scorpius’s bed and moaned, “Everything’s the worst.”

“Yeah, kind of,” Scorpius agreed, no longer able to disagree with Albus when he started his whining. He sat down on the bed next to Albus and patted his head awkwardly. “It’s just one day, and then it will be over.”

“The fall-out will follow me forever: Harry Potter’s son can’t even disarm Yann Fredericks.”

“That would be a really slanted headline.”

Albus rolled over to peer up at him, and Scorpius wondered, for the first time ever, if maybe Albus shouldn’t be lying in his bed. Albus apparently had the same realization because he pushed himself up in a hurry. “This is going to be so humiliating.”

“We are incredibly adept at humiliating ourselves, this is true.”

“You are,” agreed Albus. “Because I was thinking about it, and you aren’t actually bad at any of this are you - magic, duelling, flying?”

“No, I really am bad at flying,” Scorpius said, forgetting to deny the rest.

“You’re so concerned with making everyone think that there’s no way you could be a dark wizard that you don’t let anyone see how talented you are. You’d probably be the best in our year at duelling if you didn’t pretend to be so shit!”

“Rose is the most talented in our year, and I’m not pretending to be shit. I’m pretending to be average. Do I look like I’m shit at magic?”

“Yes, kind of.”

“And anyway, the only reason I know how to duel is because my dad taught me, which he wasn’t supposed to do and only did because I think he thought that people would attack me for being Voldemort’s son.”

Albus shot him a weird look. “But people _do_ attack you for being Voldemort’s son. You just still never fight back.”

Scorpius nodded to himself. “If I judged the situation to be a real risk to my life or permanent health, I… would disarm them, yes. But that’s never happened, and Madam Pomfrey always fixes me up.” At Albus’s withering look, he said, “I can’t! It would make me and my dad look bad!”

“Yes, Scorpius, we get it,” Albus teased. “Your dorkiness is very selfless.”

Scorpius pushed him gently. “I think so too, sometimes, when I’m feeling particularly Albus-y.” 

Albus snorted and let the insult slide, a sure sign that he was gearing up for a big request. “It occurred to me, though, that it’s kind of a waste of your duelling skills to just throw your match on purpose to someone like Zephaniel when I could just fail for you without even trying.” At Scorpius’s curious look, he continued, “And you could win for me.”

“I’m following the logic, but I don’t see how-”

Albus couldn’t hold it in any longer. He made an eager little flailing motion and grabbed Scorpius’s arm like he often did when excited; normally, Scorpius loved when he did it. Today it made him feel especially wary. “I saw Polyjuice brewing in your dad’s office!”

“No! What? No! No, we’re not doing that!”

“Why not? It’s brilliant! Don’t you remember what your dad said? If you were me, you’d be allowed to actually fight! I’ll lose humbly for you. It’s perfect!”

“I don’t really trust you with my body, Albus, if I’m being honest.”

Albus recoiled. “Why? I wouldn’t do anything with it!”

Scorpius cocked his head. “What do you mean? I just meant that you’re easy to provoke, and I don’t want my body calling Karl a wanker or Polly an ugly cow or Yann a salad eater.”

Albus nodded proudly. “I don’t know what that one means, but I like it a lot.”

“There’s definitely something we’re missing there,” said Scorpius. “I just don’t see how it could be a bad thing… anyway, Albus, my point remains: You run your mouth off a lot. I don’t. I’d like to continue not running my mouth off.”

Albus gripped his arm tighter. “I swear that if I run my mouth off while Polyjuiced as you, I will admit to everyone what we did and take full responsibility. But I won’t run my mouth, so it’s a nonissue.” 

“I want to trust you,” Scorpius said reluctantly. “It just seems like a pretty bad plan to me, one that could easily backfire.”

“Come on, Scorpius. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Scorpius regarded him suspiciously. “I’ll do it, but I beg you to never ask that question ever again.”

*

It wasn’t hard to break into his dad’s office to get the Polyjuice. It wasn’t even breaking in so much as unlocking the door and walking inside while his dad wasn’t around, which was something Scorpius had done many times before. He had never given him any reason to think that he would do anything particularly nefarious with the access. It was one of only two hideouts that Scorpius and Albus had from their classmates, and they couldn’t talk in the library. Plus, Albus hated sitting next to Scorpius while he read, and Scorpius hated that Albus wouldn’t just pick up a book or do some homework.

“There should be tighter regulations on this stuff,” Albus mused as he poured some into a flask. 

“Regulations?” Scorpius repeated. “He’s the Hogwarts Potions Master. He brews it for the Auror Department! I don’t think he expects his son to nick some of it from his office.”

“Maybe he should,” Albus pointed out. He peeked into the flask and wrinkled his nose. “That should be enough for a couple hours.”

Albus held it out and looked at Scorpius questioningly for his approval. Scorpius mimed zipping up his lips. “If you’re really going to do this, I at least want it to be an educational experience for you.”

Albus snorted. “You’re a very ridiculous person sometimes.”

“Excuse me? I’m ridiculous? You’re breaking about ten different laws because you want your dad to think you can disarm people.”

Albus thwacked his arm. “Fair enough. Come on - we’ve got an hour to get changed and get in character before Defense.”

“In character?” Scorpius whined as he stomped after Albus towards the Slytherin dormitory. He groaned loudly. “I’m not good at being in character! I’ll never be good at being in character!” He flailed his limbs before draping himself over Albus. “Why does everyone expect me to be good at being in character?”

Albus choked on a laugh and straightened his spine. “Wow! You’re really good at that! Shucks, double wow, two points!”

“I have never, in my entire life, said ‘shucks’.”

Albus snickered and led the way up to the boys dorm, and Scorpius immediately flopped down onto Albus’s bed. He rolled over and whined, “Why are you laughing at me?”

“We get it, Scorpius. You’re good at impersonating me.”

“Oh,” Scorpius said sulkily. “So you’re saying I’m only good at it because it’s _easy?”_

“No, I didn’t - is this really what talking to me is like?”

“No, Albus, I’m teasing you,” said Scorpius, although he was pretty accurately reflecting what it was like to talk to Albus in a strop. He threw a hand out, accidentally whacking Albus, and said, “Okay, give me your clothes.”

“What?” Albus said loudly. “You want me to - what?”

Scorpius scrunched up his nose. “I want you to go get me an outfit from your trunk.”

“Oh! Yes, I will do that. And you will, in turn, do the same for me. Yes.”

Scorpius pushed himself up. “Are you okay? It’s okay to have second thoughts. It’s really, really okay to have second thoughts.”

“I’m not having second thoughts!” Albus snapped. He jumped up to rummage through his trunk, and Scorpius was hit in the face with a complete outfit. 

He picked through the pile and held up a pair of boxer briefs. “Seems excessive.”

“I thought you might want the option.”

Scorpius grinned at him. “I’m going to wear them, just - seems excessive. Are we going to switch wands?”

“I don’t think Polyjuice works like that.” Albus clapped his hands and held them apart to catch Scorpius’s clothes, and Scorpius jumped up to collect a spare uniform for Albus. 

They changed separately - Albus standing on his mattress with the curtains drawn and making an alarming number of crashing noises, and Scorpius poorly concealed behind a bedpost. He felt very silly as he returned to Albus in an ill-fitting uniform. His pant legs ended several inches above the ankle, and Scorpius didn’t want to risk struggling to fasten the fly. His shirt wasn’t too tight and probably fit Scorpius better than it did Albus other than the cuffs, which did not reach his wrists.

Albus, on the other hand, looked adorable in Scorpius’s oversized uniform. Just looking at him made Scorpius want to pick him up or something. He wasn’t sure what he’d want to do after that point, hadn’t gotten that far, but he was pretty sure that whatever he wanted to do might start with picking him up. Or maybe pushing him. Albus probably wouldn’t like it though. He really didn’t like when anyone made references to his height, especially since his father didn’t give him much hope that he would have some incredible growth spurt later in life.

Albus started giggling madly when he saw Scorpius, and Scorpius grimaced and extended a hand. “Just hurry up and give me the potion. I want to be able to fasten my trousers.”

Albus nodded, still snickering, and handed Scorpius a cup. Scorpius sniffed it suspiciously and scrunched up his nose. “It’s not going to taste like fish in it? I don’t think I can - will the effects last if I vomit it back up?” He squeezed his eyes shut and muttered, “Here goes nothing.”

The repulsive gunk brushed his lips before Albus shouted, “NO! No, I’m not in there yet!”

Scorpius gagged and stuck his tongue out. “You should have warned me!”

“I thought you’d wait for me to drink it together! Just give me a second. I have plenty of hairs in my brush.”

“I don’t think so,” Scorpius said. He reached out to tug a hair out of Albus’s scalp, and Albus grimaced before doing the same to Scorpius.

“I had plenty of hair in my brush,” Albus muttered as he dropped a strand of Scorpius’s white blonde hair into his cup. Scorpius watched with undeniable curiosity as it reacted with the sludge and transformed it to a translucent lilac-grey color. Albus made an impressed face. “Real before and after on this one.”

Albus’s hair turned Scorpius’s mud-like potion into a flowing mixture of enchanting green and black swirls. Scorpius held it up in front of his eyes and mused, “Do you think it’ll taste like mint chocolate chip?”

“No, I think it’ll probably still taste like fish,” Albus said. “Bottoms up.”

They linked elbows and threw back their respective potions. Albus was correct; the potions may have gotten more attractive after the addition of their hairs, but the taste had only incrementally improved. Scorpius started gagging again, and Albus made a very displeased “bleurgh” noise before the pain set in as the transformation began. 

Scorpius fell on his knees as his body changed. “Is it supposed to feel like this?”

Albus gripped the bedpost, struggling to stay on his feet. “Maybe your dad made it wrong?”

 _“Argh_ \- how dare you?”

Albus swore viciously. “Is this what it feels like to be a werewolf?”

“No, that’s - that’s definitely probably worse than this,” Scorpius gasped. The pain started to subside. “Oh, bugger. We’re never doing that again.”

He glanced up and then sat back on his ankles in shock as he saw himself examining his hands with an expression of utter amazement. Albus beamed down at Scorpius. “Looks like he made it right!”

Scorpius scrambled to his feet, fastening his fly as his pants now threatened to slip down to his ankles. “Wow! I need a mirror! I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Don’t take my body to the bathroom!” Albus said quickly.

Scorpius had tried to push past Albus but now halted in his tracks. “I just meant for the mirrors, but now that you bring it up, I… I really should have peed before transforming.” 

Albus recoiled. “Did you wet my pants?”

“No! Albus! I just meant that I need to - I’m going to go to the bathroom.”

Albus frowned. “Please don’t look at or touch any part of my body.”

“Your idea, Albus. This whole thing was your brilliant idea.”

“Scorpius!”

“I promise! You’re making this so creepy.”

Albus was completely shamelessly rubbing his - Scorpius’s, technically - jaw and clavicle with each hand but stopped to glare at Scorpius before he fled the dormitory. 

He had thought that it would be exciting to study Albus’s face in the mirror, see what Scorpius’s facial expressions would look like on him. He was right, in a way. It was incredibly exciting to suddenly be in control of someone else’s - Albus’s, specifically - body but felt so intimate and intrusive that after a moment’s glance in the mirror, Scorpius kept his head down to avoid accidentally catching a glimpse of his reflection.

He rested his forehead against the door to the bathroom stall and gave himself a silent pep talk. He could do this. He had to pee, and there was nothing weird about this unless he made it weird. Unfortunately, he was making it very weird for himself. He was pretty sure there was a spell he could use but didn’t know the incantation and didn’t especially fancy the idea of pointing a wand down there. He had seen upperclassmen doing it before when casting dirty spells in the common room before - the sort of spells that Scorpius couldn’t believe anyone would invent much less use in a semi-public area surrounded by friends. It had always struck him as incredibly risky. He would not be taking the risk.

The more he thought about it, the more it had to be done, so Scorpius shut his eyes and sang the I’m a Little Teapot song under his breath as he peed as fast as he could, washed his hands without looking up at the mirror, and sprinted back to the dormitory where Albus was running his hands through his hair absent-mindedly.

He looked up and actually smiled a bit as he studied Scorpius’s face. He, thankfully, didn’t seem angry. Scorpius hadn’t done anything to warrant anger anyway. “You’re bright red right now. I didn’t realize I even could blush so much.”

Scorpius grinned. “That’s because there’s rarely a handy mirror around when you get really, really mad. You are a Weasley, you know.”

“Bleugh,” said Albus. “I guess.”

Scorpius clapped his hands, nodding with a foreign sense of confidence, verging on mania. “Alright then. Fantastic. Let’s go win this duel then!”

*

Scorpius couldn’t stop tapping his foot and Albus kept his hands covering his mouth for most of the introduction, in which Professors Potter and Longbottom rehashed the rules of a wizard duel and class restrictions. The restrictions were simple, if a bit too lenient for the Gryffindor-Slytherin class. There was, as always, to be no muggle fighting. No curses were allowed, and any hexes and jinxes employed - and this was where Professor Potter probably gave them too much credit - had to have an immediate-acting counterspell. Each duel would end when the opponent had been disarmed.

“You’re shaking,” Albus whispered before they separated. Albus’s first duel was to be with Zephaniel Smith. Yann Fredericks was already eyeing Scorpius with predatory interest from across the room.

“Yeah,” said Scorpius. “What if someone sees through it?”

Albus smiled. It was so disorienting to be looking at himself. “But your impression of me is so good.”

“Albus, Scorpius,” Professor Longbottom called. “Find your partners.”

Albus gave Scorpius a quick nod before maneuvering his way through the pairs of students to reach Zephaniel. Scorpius hunched his shoulders and dragged his feet over towards Yann like a man walking to his execution. 

“Hey, Albus,” Yann whispered. “Is this your dad’s first time seeing you try to duel someone, or has he already realized you’re a disappointment?”

“I - what?” Scorpius asked. He wasn’t surprised by the idea that the other students were saying horrible things to Albus when he couldn’t hear him or that Albus chose not to tell him about. People said horrible things to Scorpius when Albus wasn’t around, although something had to be particularly awful for him to tell neither Albus nor his dad. He wasn’t sure what, actually, took him off-guard about that comment other than the fact that it made him so furious to hear someone knowingly exploiting his best friend’s insecurities. He wished for Albus’s sake that he could come up with a better response than asking, in a shaking voice, “Who says stuff like that?”

Yann smiled nastily. Scorpius could feel his pulse speeding up at the sudden rush of hatred. “Tell you what: I don’t want to embarrass you in front of your father. I’ll let you go first. Try to cast _any_ spell, and I won’t defend myself. Just try, Slytherin Squib.”

Scorpius was horrified, both at Yann and at himself as a voice he’d never heard before popped into his head and growled, _Crucio this son of a bitch._ His breath caught in his throat. He was so lucky that no one could hear the inside of his head. Or could they? Was someone doing Legilimency on him right now? Did Professor Potter suddenly think that his son was an evil monster?

Yann seemed to have misread the expression on Scorpius’s face because he smirked smugly before giving Scorpius a mockingly low bow and assuming combative position. Scorpius could remember how to move. He caught Albus giving him a concerned look from across the room where he was about to duel Zephaniel. Scorpius forced a smile and bowed to Yann. 

Professor Longbottom gave the order to start, and spells started flying all around them. He and Professor Potter were pacing the room, intervening when necessary, and Yann didn’t move. He just cocked his head to the side and waited for Scorpius to move. Scorpius shook all the horrible voices suggesting hexes that he hadn’t even realized he’d retained from his head and said, _“Expelliarmus!”_

It would have felt like a bigger victory if Yann had thought to defend himself at all. By the time he realized the spell had worked, Scorpius had already caught his wand. The voice returned to say, _Break it! Break the wand!_

Scorpius smiled at Yann beatifically and held out his wand.

Yann stood his ground and glared at him. “I let you do that.”

“You did,” Scorpius agreed. He didn’t move a muscle. “Do you want your wand back?”

Yann frowned at him. The classroom had gotten significantly quieter. Everyone must have finished the first round relatively quickly too. He extended a hand to accept it from Scorpius, and Scorpius raised an eyebrow and waited until he stalked across the room to take it from his hand. 

The moment Yann reached out to grab the wand, Scorpius threw it on the other side of the room. Yann gaped at him, and Scorpius said, “Sorry.”

“You’re going to regret that, Potter,” he spat. 

Scorpius’s pulse was pounding in his ears. He probably shouldn’t be making Albus any additional enemies, but he was livid and felt so removed from reality that he was rapidly forgetting who he actually was. He ignored his threat and scanned the room for Albus, who ironically had disarmed his opponent on his own and was studying Scorpius with a politely curious expression. Or maybe it just looked politely curious because it was Scorpius’s face. When they met eyes, Albus shrugged, which was as much permission as Scorpius really needed. 

He lost sight of Albus as the students shuffled around, those who’d lost their first duel finding seats at the perimeter of the room. Polly Chapman marched across the room to stand in front of him and declare, “I’m not going to take it easy on you like Yann did, Albus Potter.”

“That’s too bad. You’ll wish you had a good excuse when you lose.”

Polly, true to her word, did not hold back and was definitely better at magic than Yann even if he had been trying. Scorpius decided immediately to switch back to his signature method of exclusively shield charms. He looked around the room frantically for something to hide behind, but it had been cleared for the duelling tournament. His heart sank to his stomach as he realized that most of the audience and those who had finished their duels were focusing on “Albus” and Polly’s. Albus’s fellow Slytherins looked perplexed but intrigued, and several Gryffindors were whispering bitterly. 

Scorpius dove in time to avoid a Tickling Charm. Polly sent another disarming charm at him, and Scorpius, still crouched down, shouted, _“Protego!”_

He toppled backwards, more from an inherent lack of balance combined with a new center of gravity rather than the spell itself backfiring, but the shield exploded out of him and sent Polly flying into the wall, her wand skidding across the floor to the opposite side of the room. Scorpius pushed himself back up to see most of the room gaping at him. The first thing he noticed was that, once again, Albus had successfully disarmed Fitz, and Scorpius’s heart hurt as he realized exactly how much the pressure that the other students put on him had affected his ability to perform magic. 

They were paired off again. Scorpius felt nauseous as he (Albus Potter) was partnered with Karl Jenkins. Karl was the worst one by far. It really showed a complete lack of knowledge from the professors that they would ever pair Albus with him in a duel. Karl had coined and spread the name ‘Slytherin Squib’ and was also the only student to risk hexing Albus in the halls. He watched Scorpius with narrowed eyes as he joined him for the penultimate round. 

Scorpius dropped the nervous charade for Karl. He ruffled his hair and shot a grin at him that seemed to take him off guard. Scorpius combed his memory for every spell or duelling anecdote his father had ever shared, the kind of information that he would file away as something fascinating that he would never have the chance to use. Scorpius smiled at him as the perfect spell came to mind, and Karl was startled for a moment before hissing, “Feeling good now that someone’s replaced you with a real wizard, Slytherin Squib?”

Scorpius’s smile widened. “I’m just thinking about how embarrassing it’s going to be for you to lose so horribly after all the shit you’ve talked, Jenkins.”

He raised an eyebrow challengingly. “You think I’m going to lose? You, Albus Potter, actually think you can beat me?”

“I like my odds, yeah.”

“Potter, Jenkins,” Professor Longbottom called. “The duel’s started. Bow and get going.”

“Sorry, Professor,” Scorpius called. “We were just engaging in the much underrated art of smacktalk - hey! _Protego!”_

Karl had shot a hex at him before they’d bowed to start the duel, and Scorpius’s shield was so hasty that he still felt part of the stinging hex rip into his cheek. Karl smirked like that move was something to be proud of and sent another jinx that Scorpius blocked more easily. He blocked a volley of nasty hexes, most of which he’d heard of before but some of which had never showed up in Scorpius’s extensive reading. Scorpius shot back a Bat-Bogey Hex, and a few of the girls in the room shrieked and covered their hair as large bats started to flap out of Karl’s nose.

The duel was won. Karl was effectively distracted, and Scorpius could have disarmed him easily. The mean little voice that had invaded his mind, however, was not yet done with his only school-sanctioned opportunity to scare Karl Jenkins. Aiming just an inch from his feet, Scorpius shouted, _“Reducto!”_ and Karl stumbled backwards as the floor exploded. 

He did it a few more times, his ears ringing as Karl was forced to jump out of the way repeatedly to avoid the explosions, until Professor Potter shouted, “Al, it’s over! Disarm him!”

Scorpius froze at the sound of Harry Potter’s voice then clenched his jaw and said, _“Expelliarmus.”_

Karl snarled at him as his wand flew into Scorpius’s hand, and Scorpius tossed it back to him immediately. The threat that he might actually snap Karl’s wand if he held onto it for too long was very real. 

Albus was now sitting down with the other students who had lost their duels and was covering his mouth with fist to hide his smile. When Scorpius met his eyes, he pulled back his hand and jerked his head to draw Scorpius’s attention to which Gryffindor had reached the final round with him. Scorpius’s eyes bulged as he saw Rose waiting patiently next to Professor Potter, scrutinizing him closely. 

When Scorpius looked at her, her eyes darted over to Albus briefly, and she raised an eyebrow. Scorpius inhaled in surprise as her message sank in, then Rose smiled teasingly and said, “Come on, _Al._ Let’s do this.”

Scorpius scanned the room quickly to see if anyone else looked suspicious, but everyone else was just impressed and a little shocked. Albus’s dad’s jaw was clenched as he struggled to look totally neutral, and Professor Longbottom, who had fixed Karl’s nose, was now just beaming up at the one bat that had yet to vanish with his hand over his chest. 

Having already gotten much farther in the class tournament than he needed to in order to prove Albus’s magical ability and likely having brought the ire of most of the Gryffindors onto Albus in the process, Scorpius really didn’t need to win that duel. That said, logic was not running the show at the moment. He was running on dangerous self-confidence mixed with a diffuse, feral rage. He didn’t have any anger directed at Rose specifically. Maybe a tiny bit of frustration that she wouldn’t talk to him or smile at him or call him by his first name, but not anger! Rose was great. Not to him, but in general, Rose was great. 

Scorpius was going to crush her now and then somewhere down the road, probably in their late thirties or early forties, was going to take her on a date. 

He and Rose bowed deeply and assumed combat positions. Rose started a rapid fire barrage of spells that Scorpius just focused on blocking as best as he could. He caught another stinging hex to the cheek and a jinx that made his legs give out underneath him. He scrambled into a sitting position and shot a silencing charm at Rose that made her next spell catch in her throat. Scorpius grinned up at her as she mouthed a few ineffective incantations then scrunched her face up as if she was trying a nonverbal spell that was far beyond any third year’s skill level. 

Giving up on nonverbal spells, Rose violated the first rule of a wizard duel and launched herself at Scorpius. He started giggling like a maniac as she tried to wrestle the wand from his hand. Rose was also shaking with something that was probably mute laughter. She got his wand hand pinned down, and he quickly switched hands and then tucked his wand into his waistband. He jutted his chin out challengingly, and Rose tried to snort and jerked her head towards where Albus must be sitting in the audience. She raised her eyebrows and tapped her throat with her free hand, and Scorpius scowled at her childishly before lifting the silencing charm.

“Give up and I won’t tell anyone it’s you, Scorpius,” she hissed in his ear.

“Maybe you should win with your own merit,” he whispered back before getting hit in the stomach by a tickling charm. Rose started to climb off him, and Scorpius managed to wheeze out, _“Serpentsortia.”_

Rose yelped and jumped back as the snake flew at her. She actually caught it, which Scorpius thought was incredibly cool, then it hissed in her face and she dropped it in surprise. She danced back from it, looking half-amused and half-frightened, and Scorpius shouted, _“Expelliarmus.”_

Professor Potter stepped in to vanish the snake the moment that Rose’s wand left her hand. She watched it slide across the floor but stuck out her hand to shake Scorpius’s before running off to retrieve it. There was a long silence, then Adelaide said, “Merlin’s beard, Albus Severus did it.”

Rose, wand in hand, patted him on the shoulder and said, “Good work, cousin,” before returning to her seat beside Fitz.

Professor Potter blinked a few times as he collected his thoughts then nodded decisively. “That was - fifty points to Slytherin for winning, and twenty points to Gryffindor.”

“Are you familiar with the idea of relative gain, Professor Potter?” Ezra asked. 

“There are two other houses,” said Professor Potter.

Ezra made a doubtful face. “Are there though? Are there really?”

Karl was frowning at Scorpius from his spot between Polly and Yann, all of whom were very disgruntled to have lost so miserably to Albus Potter. Scorpius caught Karl’s eye, and he snarled, “Nice snake, Al. You and Voldemort’s son deserve each other.”

And something inside Scorpius snapped.

In a horrible collision of adrenaline, repressed grief, and freedom from the stigma of the Malfoy name, Scorpius saw red. He whirled on Karl before either of the Professors could step in. “You know what? No, okay. No. He is _not_ Voldemort’s son. That rumor is absolutely ridiculous. That rumor is Rita Skeeter-level absurd, which makes sense, actually, Karl because your dad wrote with her during the War, didn’t he? Denied that Voldemort was back, called Ha - my dad crazy, defamed Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of the era! You don’t need to answer. We both know he did. He didn’t fight in the battle. Actually, there are only two other people in this room whose parents fought in the battle - Rose Granger-Weasley and Fitzgerald Wood. Isn’t that crazy? For the amount that you look down on Slytherins, you’d think your parents single-handedly won the war! They didn’t!”

Scorpius held up a hand to silence Karl before he could respond and shouted, “I’m about to drop some knowledge on all of your asses, Gryffindors! You act like the war was Gryffindors versus Slytherins! You, Yann Fredericks, your mum spent the war printing anti-Muggle-born propaganda, and your dad was the auror trailing Arthur Weasley - really useful stuff. On behalf of all the Weasleys, we thank you for your contribution. Polly Chapman, your parents were Imperiused for the whole war - that’s too bad. I mean, some people can throw it off, but no shame that yours couldn’t. My dad did it at age fourteen, but that’s perfectly respectable. Pius Thicknesse, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement also pretended to - oh, I mean, _was_ under the Imperius Curse. What’s most interesting, really, is that after the war was over, your parents were the most vocal critics of Rose’s mum’s and Scorpius’s dad’s House-elf legislation and were actually the only people to vote in favor of keeping a department in the beast division for the extermination of werewolves. Zephaniel, your dad is Zacharias Smith. He was in the Battle of Hogwarts, technically, doing a very heroic job of pushing children out of the way so that he could evacuate first.”

Professor Longbottom laughed sharply then looked mortified and clapped both of his hands over his mouth. Zephaniel and Yann were both sliding very far down in their seats, but Karl and Polly were enraged. Karl stood up and snapped, “You cannot blame us for what our parents did.”

“Oh, I can’t?” Scorpius let out a shrill, disbelieving laugh. “Okay. I get it. Sure. You shouldn’t have to answer for the actions of your parents. Right? The only person in this whole room who should have to answer for his parents is Scorpius Malfoy! Is that what you believe?”

“That’s not - his parents were Death Eaters!”

“I THOUGHT HIS DAD WAS VOLDEMORT?” Scorpius shouted. He heard the Slytherins begin to stir but couldn’t pull his attention away from the Gryffindors. He did recognize, distantly, that he should have gotten Albus’s permission before doing this, but realistically Albus was probably loving this. “I _knew_ you didn’t believe that rumor! I knew you didn’t think Scorpius was the son of Voldemort because you wouldn’t _dare_ speak to him like you do if you really believed that. You’re too much of a coward - like your father.”

“Like _my_ father?”

“When you’re dealing with a genocidal dictator, doing nothing is tantamount to supporting him. They may not have gotten the mark or actually met Voldemort, but your parents did far worse than nothing. You know what you are, Karl? You’re a coward. And you’re stupid. And you seem to think being Gryffindor means you’re automatically good and infallible when I can think of the name of another stupid, cowardly Gryffindor: Peter Pettigrew.”

Karl gave up on fighting his own battle and sent Professor Potter a pleading look. “Are you going to let him talk to us like this?”

Professor Potter shifted awkwardly. “Er - is anything he’s saying false?”

He glanced at Rose for confirmation, who turned around to glare at Karl. “Not a word.”

“No one in my class will ever be punished for telling the truth.”

“You know why that is?” Scorpius added spitefully. “Because of Dolores Umbridge, who you all may know better as Yann’s Muggle-born-bashing mom’s Muggle-born-bashing boss!”

Yann gaped at him and again tried to appeal to Professor Potter. “You’re only letting him get away with this because he’s your son!”

Professor Potter shook his head gravely. “That is entirely false. I’m letting this happen because if you actually wanted to stand up to Voldemort, it would be a lot more difficult than getting into a fight with a classmate who is, er - just trying to drop knowledge on your asses. Look, I should have addressed these rumors years ago. Not just because they’re cruel, but because if you think that standing up to a dark wizard is as simple as bullying a peer, especially one who has never even attempted to fight back, then you are not prepared for the real world at all. This is Defense Against the Dark Arts. If you can’t face this, then I don’t think you can face anything.”

“What?!”

“Aw,” Rose whined mockingly. “Is standing up to Voldemort not as easy as you thought it’d be?” With a final glare at the round of Gryffindors behind her, she jumped up to join Scorpius.

Scorpius gaped at her. “What are you doing?”

“Choosing a side,” Rose said. “Loudly and publicly. The right one.”

Scorpius beamed at her for a moment then looked over at Albus, who was watching him with a taken aback but ultimately positive look. He smiled when Scorpius caught his eye, and then Scorpius realized with horror that Albus’s hair was beginning to darken. Scorpius cleared his throat and said, very stiffly, “Thank you all for your kind attention,” before speed-walking out of the room. 

Albus stood up and said, “I’m going to, um…”

“Follow him,” said Professor Longbottom, and Albus sprinted out after Scorpius.

In the hallway, he started flailing and smacking at Scorpius enthusiastically. “That was amazing. You just went off on them! Do you feel better? I’m so glad you got that off your chest. I don’t think anyone’s going to call us Voldy and the Slytherin Squib for at least a few weeks!”

Scorpius grabbed his wrists, and Albus froze. The grin froze on his face, then Scorpius smiled and Albus looked deeply relieved as he abruptly shrank down a few inches. Scorpius gave him a tug and said, “Come on. We need to change back.”

“Amazing!” Albus gushed as Scorpius guided him to the nearest bathroom. “Absolutely amazing! I had no idea you had that all in you. You really researched the shit out of their families, didn’t you? Were you planning this?”

“I like to know things,” muttered Scorpius. “Especially about people who hex me in the halls.”

Albus was too distracted by Scorpius’s outburst to focus on modesty and had no problem kicking off his shoes, shrugging off his robe, and stripping off his shirt and trousers. Scorpius accepted his clothes and looked around for a surface before wrinkling his nose and setting them on the sink. He didn’t want to make a thing out of it but found it very difficult to undress in front of Albus in his pants and a large undershirt. Albus’s face and chest were growing steadily redder as he realized what he’d done, and they were both very relieved when Scorpius shoved Albus’s clothing into his arms. 

They changed quickly, both blushing furiously, and Albus yelped as the door to the bathroom flew open. His eyes widened as he took in the newcomer. “Rose, this is the boy’s bathroom! Get out!”

Scorpius spun around to see Rose smirking at Albus. “I assume you’re back to yourself then, Al.”

Albus’s jaw dropped. “How did you find out?”

“I guessed, and then Scorpius confirmed it. Don’t worry. I stayed for the recap, and no one else suspected a thing, but I do think Karl and Yann are going to jump you.” She turned on Scorpius as if she intended to ignore Albus for the rest of the conversation. Her voice got slightly breathier as she said, “Scorpius, wow.”

“Thank you for standing up with me, Rose!” Scorpius said eagerly.

“Of course. You were right, if somewhat inarticulate. Why did I never know how good at duelling you are? And also at referencing archived Prophets?”

Scorpius beamed at her. “You should have known I was good at finding old Prophet archives.”

“Yes, I suppose I should have,” said Rose. “But you are a very talented wizard!”

“‘A very talented wizard’,” Albus mumbled derisively. He was ignored.

“Voldemort’s son can’t really go around firing snakes at people,” said Scorpius.

“No, I suppose not,” agreed Rose. She squared her shoulders and smiled at Scorpius. “I will allow you, Scorpius Malfoy, to ask me to the next Hogsmeade weekend.”

“What?” Albus yelped.

Scorpius was equally shocked. “I - okay - will you say ‘yes’?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” said Rose primly. “But you are welcome to ask me.”

“Can I do it right now?”

“No, I don’t fancy being asked out in the bathroom with my cousin glaring at me.” She stood up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek and said, “Good job today. Bye, Al. You did well too.”

When the door shut behind her, Scorpius spun around to face Albus. He spread his arms out wide and shouted, “Did you see that?”

“I - yes, I did,” Albus said. He did not seem especially pleased for Scorpius. “Are you really going to ask her out? She always ignores you!”

“Why would I not ask her out? She is putting genuine consideration into saying yes! I can’t let this opportunity pass me by.”

Albus looked very annoyed, probably at Scorpius’s willingness to forgive Rose after one encounter when Scorpius had made it clear he never held any of her behavior against her, and pushed past him to stalk out of the bathroom. Scorpius watched in horror as he stormed away then ran to catch up with Albus. He was grinding his jaw when Scorpius fell into step with him, but, by the time they reached Slytherin dungeon, they’d struck up a conversation like nothing had changed. Which made sense, because nothing had changed.


	10. Rose Granger-Weasley (February 2016)

Draco dropped two freshly-sealed vials to the ground, where they cracked open and began to react instantaneously. He was, for a moment, too preoccupied with staring at his son in shock, and Scorpius had to be the one to leap up and vanish the spilled ingredients and shattered glass. He gave Draco a disbelieving look as he sat back down on his stool.

“You don’t seem excited,” Scorpius declared dully.

“That was a - a very effective vanishing spell, son. Really quite impressive work. Some potions, when you vanish the ingredients, the reaction doesn’t always - you know that. Of course, you know that. Right. Wonderful… wonderful spellwork. Top notch.”

Scorpius looked confused. “So you are excited? You’re dithering quite a bit.”

“Of course I’m excited!” Draco cried, feeling completely blind-sided. “Of course! Yes, this is really quite, very excellent - Rose Granger-Weasley, you say?”

“Yes, dad! You might have heard of her? Best witch in our year? Funniest, coolest, prettiest, most terrifying witch in our year? Gryffindor chaser? Big, voluminous hair? Rose.”

“Yes, her hair does precede her,” Draco muttered. “‘Voluminous’ is a very kind word for it.”

“Dad,” said Scorpius. “Why aren’t you excited? Rose Granger-Weasley is going to go to Hogsmeade with me on Valentine’s Day, even though she has lots of very fascinating opinions on the virtues of Valentine’s Day.”

“I’m sure she is the first person to have ever thought any of those things,” Draco said witheringly then regretted mocking his lovestruck son. “I just thought you were - that is, what about -?”

“Oh, how much her friends bully me?” Scorpius asked.

“Yes,” Draco lied. “That.”

“I have complete faith that it can only get better from here! Albus’s outburst in Defense at the beginning of the year helped a bit already.”

Oh! Draco jumped at the opportunity. “So how does Albus feel about you dating, er - his cousin?”

Scorpius wrinkled his nose as he considered this. “He told me that he was okay with it. He hasn’t really had much of an opinion on the matter.”

“But it is a bit weird, isn’t it?” Draco pressed. “Your best mate’s cousin? Hm. Right?”

“Well, his mum is his dad’s best mate’s sister, so I don’t see how he has a leg to stand on from that angle.” Scorpius looked like he was giving this real consideration for the first time, which was already odd for him. “I think he’s been going through some stuff with his dad this year. He’s been moody for months.” He perked up. “But he has assured me that me asking out his cousin has absolutely nothing to do with it!”

Draco wanted to rub his temples, but Scorpius knew his various ticks too well, so he just raised his eyebrows to himself and said, “Well, that was very good of him.”

“I’ve been working up to this for months!” Scorpius said eagerly, already moving along from the topic. “She told me last semester that I could ask her out if I wanted to, which I thought meant that she’d say yes, but it did not! She said no! A whole bunch of times! Albus told me I should give up because I was really getting some nasty rejections for a while, but I kept at it until she said I could sit next to her in the library while we studied sometimes, which provided the foundation on which we are now building our palace of love!”

“Merlin’s beard, Scorpius,” Draco muttered, feeling like he needed a stiff drink and a long, meddlesome conversation with Blaise, Millicent, and Marcus. “That’s very, er - romantic.”

“Okay, dad, you seem very unenthused,” Scorpius said. “This is big news! I am the _first_ boy in my class to have a real date. Ezra said he’d snogged a muggle from his town, but no one believed that, and once Emmanuel snogged Rhiannon but then got confused and called her Adelaide, so he’s blown his chance with both of the Moores at this point. At least, we think. Adelaide seemed flattered. She’s difficult to understand. Most girls are hard to understand, but Adelaide really has her own thing going on.”

The reference to Pansy’s daughters reminded Draco of something very important. He could vividly remember how terrible and anti-climactic his first kiss with Pansy had been after the Yule Ball. He had felt her up over her robes, cried when it was over, and then spent the entire next day waiting for Pansy to proclaim the truth of their almost-hookup to the rest of the student body. She never had. She even allowed the rumors of their relationship to spread around the school although Draco was pretty sure that she’d started those rumors herself. 

Draco had already experienced so many horrible conversations with his son - dad’s a Death Eater, granddad was also a Death Eater and then died in prison for it, most of the Wizarding World thinks you’re Voldemort’s son, your mum is going to die before you graduate Hogwarts - that this personal revelation didn’t strike as much fear in him as it might have under different circumstances. Draco inhaled slowly and nodded to himself then cleared his throat. “So you’ve kissed Rose Granger-Weasley then?”

Scorpius made a face. “No! We haven’t even - I suppose after our first or maybe sixth date? Not yet!” He paused. “Why? When do you think I should do it? Will she take initiative? She kissed my cheek once and took initiative that time, although I don’t see how I could initiate a cheek kiss. Seems odd. What did you do with your first kiss?”

Draco cleared his throat and reinforced the Silencing Charm on his office. “Okay, Scorpius. It is very important to me that you feel like we have an open relationship where you can share anything with me. As far as advice goes, however, I am the last person you should go to. Your uncle Blaise, maybe, could be actually helpful, but my first kiss was with Pansy Parkinson, er - Moore. Pansy Moore.” Scorpius gave him a strange look as Draco struggled to come up with the best wording possible. “Then my _second_ kiss was your mother, when we got married. And we probably shared some pecks after that point or I think probably when we first started trying to conceive, but for all intents and purposes, that was also my last kiss. Because I don’t particularly fancy women, sexually speaking. Does that make sense?”

Scorpius looked at him blankly. “But mum was a woman.”

“Yes, she - she was.”

“I know how babies are made.”

Draco frowned. “Okay, bear with me here, Scorpius, I should have written a speech. Have you ever seen the older kids in the Slytherin dorm doing a spell where-”

Scorpius waved his arms for Draco to be quiet. “Abort, abort, I know what you’re talking about.”

“That,” said Draco. “And because I was raised in a very specific kind of way and have the kind of reputation that made most dating prospects tenable, that is the limit of my experience. What are you thinking?”

Scorpius was staring at him with an expression of intrigued shock, which was certainly better than it had been for any of the other big Malfoy father-son conversations. “I have about a million questions.”

Draco raised his hands magnanimously. “Ask away.”

“So you like… boys?”

He nodded solemnly. “Men, yes. I do teach children, Scorpius, so just - please always use the word ‘men’ if you talk about this with your friends.”

Scorpius seemed surprised. “I’m allowed to talk about this with my friends?”

“Well, I would… prefer if you didn’t, but I’m not going to say that you can’t,” Draco said clumsily. “If you feel the need to talk about this with someone.”

Scorpius nodded quickly. “I probably won’t want to, but thank you for the freedom! So how do you know for sure if you’ve never actually tested the theory?”

“You can know without experimenting,” Draco assured him. “It was pretty unavoidable after a certain point.”

“Okay. So how did you figure it out?”

“I - there were a lot of things, really. The Slytherin dorms are, as I’m sure you’ve realized, grimy, hormone-fueled places, and third year is not the worst of it although it was the start of it for a lot of students.”

“Yes, this I do know. Apparently it gave you some valuable information though!”

“That was too much information for you, and I deeply apologize, Scorpius. A lot of things just slid together at the same time. I had a very bad snogging experience with Pansy. All the other boys in my dorms were becoming very interested in girls in a different way, and I was still insulting most of them in the exact same way that Pansy did. I always had a general ambivalence towards girls whereas I remember when I met Blaise how desperate I was for him to be my friend, and there were other male students where I would do anything I could think of to get their attention. I think I just always noticed boys more than I did girls, and I always noticed the pretty boys more than I did the other boys. And if that doesn’t all help you figure it out, at a certain point your body will make the deduction for you.”

Scorpius was gaping at him. “You’re very good at hiding it. I’d have never guessed.”

“You didn’t know me in school. Plenty of people guessed,” Draco said.

“So mum did know about this?”

“All of my friends know about it. I did love your mother, Scorpius. She was the best friend I’ve ever had, and we both loved the life that we created together, but that was it as far as our relationship went. In some ways, I think it’s probably easier to be married to your best friend.”

Scorpius’s brow was furrowed as he thought this over. “But I was raised in a specific way with a bad reputation, too, right?”

“No!” Draco said quickly. “No, I want you to do whatever makes you happy, and if Rose Granger-Weasley makes you happy, then I fully support it, but if there comes a time when you need more intricate advice on dating girls - well, anyone at all, really, I am going to have to redirect you to your uncle. That is the only point I am making.”

“I definitely do not want to talk about this with uncle Blaise, but I appreciate the offer,” Scorpius said diplomatically. “I’m just trying to take this all in.”

“You were, I mean, aware that this existed, right? Men liking other men?”

Scorpius gave him a withering look like Draco was insulting his intelligence. “Dad, I know Latin and Ancient Greek. I am acquainted with the concept.”

“Okay, there are some big distinctions between modern homosexuality and what they did, and I am… just going to buy you a book on it, okay?”

Scorpius looked relieved. “Please, thanks.”

“Any other questions before I _Obliviate_ myself?”

Scorpius smiled. “No, I guess not.” His smile faded into a more thoughtful expression. “You really never also noticed girls?”

“Well, everyone notices when someone is objectively attractive. You’ll meet those blokes who say that they can’t tell if another man is attractive, and they’re lying. I think. But sometimes you just want to - bloody hell - _touch someone_ or _explore further,_ you understand? And _not_ everyone feels that way about people regardless of gender. Did I phrase that well?” Draco’s face was burning. The _Obliviate_ comment felt less like a joke with each humiliating sentence uttered.

Scorpius looked very pale and unresponsive, and Draco asked gently, “So did all of this make sense?”

“HM?” Scorpius asked loudly. “Oh, sense, yeah. I think I understand. It’s just like in Plato. I’m going to go now, but I’ll see you in class tomorrow! Thank you for your openness and enthusiasm! Love you unconditionally! Bye, dad!”

He practically sprinted out of the room before Draco could shout, “It’s not like what Plato wrote about! Scorpius! I’ll be at Defense later! Scorpius! Oh, bugger.” Draco let his forehead thump against his desk as his blush slowly faded then pushed himself up to send owls to Blaise and Millicent. 

He had to be at Potter’s third year Defense class later for the Occlumency introduction or would certainly have skipped out on the rest of the day to get a performance review from Blaise and Millicent. He was calmed as he left to go to the DADA classroom by the arrival of two owls in response:

_As you have invited me to my own home, I will be there. - Blaise (P.S. I TOLD YOU NOT TO CATEGORIZE YOUR SON. serves you right.)_

_Scorpius has a date with a girl??? Marcus is coming too. He’s way too involved in our children’s sex lives. This has blown his mind. - Millie_

Draco half-smiled, half-sneered as he read the responses. Marcus really did seem to enjoy getting all the romantic gossip from Scorpius and the troll twins, who had arrived at Hogwarts last year and were taking the Quidditch world by storm as they were not legally considered to be another species. Marcus would ask insightful questions and, even more absurdly, actually remember all the information shared at the next time he saw them. He knew more about the students in Scorpius’s year than Draco did, and Draco was their Head of House. 

He threw the letters into the fire and sat very still as he attempted to clear his mind. The Occlumency displays were always stressful. He had discovered what he considered to be a rather brilliant method of illustrating the powers of Occlumency to the students and had never made a mistake during a presentation before, but the stakes were rather high. He couldn’t go in frazzled and accidentally lose his focus and share something with the students that he didn’t want them to know.

His thoughts slowed down to a sluggish, controllable pace as he walked up to the Defense room. Potter was sitting on his desk (like a _cool teacher,_ the absolute wanker) and talking to some of the Gryffindors while the last-minute arrivals found their seats, and Draco gave him a placid smile as he joined him. He didn’t even feel his normal rush of anger as he saw Karl Jenkins and Yann Fredericks. 

Rose Granger-Weasley was whispering with Melissa Earnhardt on the Gryffindor side of the room. On the Slytherin side, Scorpius sat with a particularly gloomy-looking Albus in the front row while Ezra leaned over from the seat behind him to whisper in Scorpius’s ear, occasionally shooting quick glances at Rose while Scorpius struggled to hide his blush. Stuart whacked Scorpius’s shoulder and gestured at Draco, and Scorpius’s jaw dropped like he thought Draco’s appearance might relate to their conversation from earlier. He really had meant to give him advance warning but had gotten rather swept up in the conversation. Draco’s eyes slid rightward to meet Albus’s, who scrunched up his nose and gave him a weird look when Draco shot him a “my mind is so blank that I’m basically high” smile. 

“Okay, I think that’s everyone,” Potter said as he hopped up from his desk. “Professor Malfoy has very graciously agreed to join us to discuss Occlumency, which is an often-overlooked part of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Can anyone tell me what - Rose, sure.”

Rose beamed at him, either because she was always like this in Potter’s class and just preferred Defense to Potions or because she was particularly excited for Occlumency. “Occlumency is the act of closing one’s mind against Legilimency, so that your opponent can’t invade your mind and read your thoughts.”

“Right,” Potter said just as Draco said, “Basically.”

Potter cleared his throat. “When using Occlumency, your partner could be any number of things. There are people who practice Legilimency with no effort whatsoever - Legilimens, but they’re few and far between, so for our purposes, we’re going to pretend they don’t exist. There could also be links between two specific people, but, again, those are few and far between. In both of those cases, to protect yourself with Occlumency would require constant attention. For these lessons, we’re going to focus on the third case, in which you know that someone is trying to use the spell for Legilimency on you, and all you need to do is keep them from getting into your mind. Does that make sense?”

Ezra raised a hand. “Excuse me, Professor Potter. What if I do share a mental link with a specific wizard?”

“Ezra, make this easy for me.”

Ezra grinned at him. “But it haunts my dreams, Professor Potter! I _am_ the snake. Please help me.”

Draco nudged Potter and whispered, “Is he always like this in your class?”

“He’s read every book on me in existence,” Potter muttered back. He looked up and ignored Ezra’s raised hand. “As Occlumency is an incredibly intimate branch of magic, we are requiring you get permission forms from your parents before you will be eligible for lessons.”

“Most parents say no,” Draco added. “Tell your parents to say ‘no’.”

Potter nodded in a conciliatory manner. “And as Professor Malfoy is the _only_ professor who is offering to teach it, there will not be a lot of lesson spots.” 

The permission forms passed themselves out, and the students skimmed them quickly before Fitz called, “Why are there two?”

“Course logistics,” Draco said loudly. “We’ve devised two ways for you to practice Occlumency, alright? You can do private sessions with me where I actually try to use Legilimency on you, and while I can assure you that the intricacies of your minds hold absolutely no interest for me, some students and their parents fear that this is too revealing. This method has the benefit of being a more accurate reflection of the powers of Occlumency but has the drawback of me being forced to see the inane inner workings of your minds.”

He glanced at Potter, expecting him to stop him, but Potter just said, “Yeah, go on.”

Draco flicked his wand at the closet and drew the large wardrobe locked inside out onto the floor. The moment it landed on the floor, the wardrobe began to shake. It was a credit to Potter’s students that none of them flinched back in alarm. “The second method we have discovered is to combine Occlumency with your lesson on boggarts, which have been struck from the practical curricula for being too emotionally upsetting for students. Obviously.”

“No boggarts?” Fitz yelled. 

“Unfortunately no,” said Professor Potter. “We’ve had too many complaints from parents of students being upset by everyone seeing their boggart or students being upset by other people’s boggarts. It wasn’t working out.”

There was an angry murmuring from the students, and Karl shouted, “But what about the students who aren’t afraid?”

“What was so scary anyway?” Yann asked. “Isn’t that the point? You two must have done boggarts!”

Draco, who had gotten a note from his father, said nothing. Potter, who very well knew Draco had come into Lupin’s class with a note from his father, cast him a quick look then said, “It was upsetting people, you guys. We got a lot of complaints. But you’ll still get to encounter a boggart if you sign up for Occlumency.”

Draco waited for someone to press further so that Potter would have to admit that the boggart demonstration got removed because each class had an excessive number of Voldemorts, and, after seeing the other students’ Voldemorts, even more students’ boggarts would switch to the form of Voldemort. The irony of a parent complaining to Harry Potter that Voldemort was upsetting their child’s Hogwarts experience was not lost on anyone. 

“How do they relate?” Emmanuel asked. “Boggarts and Occlumency - do you have to be afraid of a _Legilimens?”_

“No, I consider boggarts to be more useful to see how a student has progressed in Occlumency,” admitted Draco. “A boggart functions by sensing the greatest fear in your mind, so if you have control over your mind, then as long as the thought that you focus on evokes fear, the boggart will still respond to it. For example, my biggest fear might be a big, awful predatory bird. If my mind is open, then the boggart will see that and take the form of a bird. However, I am also afraid of tarantulas, but less so. If I close my mind and then focus on only a thought about tarantulas, the boggart will feel the fear and respond to it because it does not have access to a greater fear in my mind. Unfortunately, if you do not already know Occlumency going in, then most people get so stuck on their original boggart that the whole thing just becomes a lesson on the Banishing Spell.”

At the lost look on most of his students’ faces, Draco asked, “Do you want a demonstration?” and was greeted by enthusiastic nods. “Feel free to call out some scary things you want me to think of.”

“How will we know it’s not just your boggart?” Polly asked.

Draco sneered at her. “Because it will shift when I tell it to.”

Potter opened up the wardrobe with a flick of his wand, and Draco stared expressionlessly into its depths until a big, ugly vulture swept out at him. Potter maneuvered himself between the boggart and the students in case it got any ideas of shifting focus, and Draco narrowed his eyes while he pictured a man buried in sand with tarantulas crawling over his face, as had been described to him when he was younger in a story unfit for children. The vulture switched into a tarantula and scurried at him, and Draco took a deep breath and thought about a grindylow pulling him down into the depths of the water. It transformed into a grindylow, and students began to shout out fears.

_“Clown!”_

_“Black hole!”_

_“A bludger!”_

_“Hurricanes!”_

Draco nodded slightly and cleared his mind of all thoughts other than the rogue bludger that had sought out Potter during his first Quidditch match ever. The boggart changed, but it had been the wrong choice for a room full of children. The boggart moved erratically around the room and was certainly going to cross the path of a student, so Draco’s mind grabbed at the next suggestion it heard.

_“A snake!”_

_“Bugger off, Wood! Do a lion.”_

_“Except lions aren’t that scary though, so.”_

_“You’d piss your pants if you ever saw a lion in the wild, Tobbins!”_

The bludger slammed down in front of Polly, and Draco moved between them to shift the boggart.

All twelve feet of Nagini reared back to regard Draco like an especially inconsequential meal. The snake lunged, and Draco shouted, _“Riddikulus!”_

Nagini flew into the air and tied herself into a balloon animal of a wiener dog, and Potter banished it before it could change again. They exchanged a look, and Draco shrugged. It wasn’t like he’d never accidentally changed the boggart into something genuinely terrifying. It was the nature of the boggart to scare. Nagini was still a far cry from his real boggart.

Draco spread his arms out wide like he’d just performed a trick for their amusement. Stuart began forging his permission slip immediately, and Emmanuel called, “What’s your real boggart?”

“You don’t get to know because I know Occlumency,” said Draco tauntingly.

Stuart raised his completed slip in the air. “Can I try? Look, my parents already signed.”

“That couldn’t be more obviously a forgery if I’d seen you do it yourself, Bletchley. Which, incidentally, I did. How would you have seen your parents already? Ten points from Slytherin for being a bad liar.”

“Will Professor Potter do it?” Zephaniel demanded. “I want to see it again.”

“It wasn’t for your entertainment,” Potter snapped. “And no, I’m not going to do it. It’s already been demonstrated.”

“Rose, then,” Zephaniel said. “I’m sure her parents agreed.”

Potter looked conflicted. “They, well… Rose?”

Rose crossed her arms and said, in a rather sniffy voice, “I will not be doing my boggart in front of you all. You couldn’t handle my boggart.”

“I thought you were supposed to be brave,” Polly teased.

“I’ll do it,” Albus said loudly to the general astonishment of the classroom. He held out a form. “I just need parental approval.”

Potter was at a loss. “I - if you want to, that’s fine with me.”

“Yeah, I’ll do it,” Albus said with more confidence than Draco had ever heard him speak. 

Potter’s eyes widened as he accepted the form and signed his name quickly. He shot Draco a confused look, and Draco nodded encouragingly before meeting Albus at the front of the room. “Albus,” he whispered so no one could hear them. “Are you sure you want to do this? Do you know what your boggart is?”

“It’s probably the same as half the students in the room,” Albus whispered back. “I’m ready.”

“Okay,” Draco said loudly. “So what you’re going to do is clear your mind of all thoughts. I’ll give you a few minutes to do so before letting the boggart out. Then I want you to try to transform your boggart in this sequence - spider, snake, dog. Three most common animal fears, nothing to be ashamed of. Think of your scariest image of a spider, a snake, and a dog ahead of time and try to bring out only that memory when the boggart is facing you. When you’re done, either try the boggart-banishing spell or take a step back, and I’ll banish it for you, alright?”

Albus nodded and shut his eyes. His breathing slowed down and his clenched jaw relaxed. Draco, like all the professors, had heard of Albus’s shocking performance in his duels and while he privately thought that there certainly had to be more to the story than Albus was revealing, he couldn’t deny that Albus had gained a great deal of magical confidence in the aftermath of the duelling tournament. Not so much confidence that Draco would have expected him to volunteer to do an especially revealing magical demonstration, and Albus’s dad seemed like he was torn between confusion and concern. Draco looked at the other students to find Scorpius also examining the other students warily, Rose and Fitz regarding him with open interest, and the nasty Gryffindors watching him through narrowed eyes. 

When Albus opened his eyes, Draco opened the wardrobe. Albus’s eyes widened as a full-sized Acromantula creeped out of the wardrobe. A few students gasped, and Rhiannon moaned, _“Ew ew ew Albus change it ew.”_ Albus stepped back, and Draco wondered if this was actually his real boggart and, if so, why he was so afraid of Acromantulas, then Albus lifted his chin as the boggart switched into - 

The issue of size constraints on a boggart had been much discussed in Defense academia. Albus’s basilisk did as good a job as possible of taking over the room, even bursting through the door, while still remaining much smaller than any recorded basilisk had ever been. Albus flinched, and his dad pulled out his wand like he was about to banish the boggart himself, but Draco motioned for him to back up as the giant snake slithered towards Albus. It wasn’t, Draco realized, that Albus was failing the challenge. He had just underestimated the strength of the boggart’s affinity for fear; a scary spider became an Acromantula and a scary snake became a basilisk.

Albus was shaking as the basilisk approached him. It reared back to lunge at him, and Albus took a deep breath and then jumped backwards as a werewolf leapt at him instead of the basilisk. Albus backed up quickly, and it took Draco a second to realize he’d completed the assignment. He ran between Albus and the werewolf and was half-distracted by Albus’s success as he tried to think about a vulture picking bits of flesh off a decaying body. The boggart twisted and transfigured into Fenrir Greyback.

 _“Riddikulus,”_ Draco shouted, but Fenrir turned to look out over all of the students before focusing on Scorpius. Scorpius sat rooted in his seat, petrified but unsure of if he had a reason to be, and Draco tried again, thinking of Neville getting Snape to wear his grandmother’s clothing in his old boggart. _“Riddikulus.”_

The spell did not affect the boggart. If Draco had waited one more second, Potter surely would have jumped in to deal with it, but he was terrified and desperate. The greatest strength of a boggart was, after all, to drive all reason out of the victim’s brain temporarily. He did the only thing that made sense in the moment and moved himself in front of the boggart again, dropping all of his Occlumency walls.

The heat roared as Fenrir’s face transformed into a face in the flame, lunging and biting at Draco as it transformed into the face of a chimera, dragon, and then Lord Voldemort before Draco was able to shout, _“Riddikulus!”_

The snarling fiendfyre was trapped as the tiny, vicious flame on a birthday candle, and Draco banished it immediately. 

Draco ran his hands through his hair anxiously as he examined the room to make sure that Fenrir and the fiendfyre really were truly gone. Potter had a strange expression on his face when Draco caught his eye and croaked, in an attempt to alleviate the tension, “You should have just let Al deal with it.”

That brought Draco back to reality. He looked at Albus, who was staring back at him, and smiled. “You did wonderfully.”

“Who was that?” Albus asked quietly. Draco was surprised that his first question was not about the fiendfyre, then he noticed that Potter had his hands on Albus’s shoulders as if he had pulled him back from one or both of Draco’s boggarts. Albus’s question suggested it had been Greyback.

“A particularly nasty dark wizard,” Potter answered for him. He looked out over the class. “I think that demonstration has shown you how difficult it will be to focus on Occlumency when your greatest - or one of your greatest - fears is facing you. We do recommend that, if you intend to sign up for Occlumency lessons at all, you get permission to have Legilimency used on you. The boggart creates a very unnecessary pressure.”

“When instead we could just have Professor Malfoy comb through our minds,” said Karl sarcastically. “Can’t we learn it from someone else?”

“You really overestimate how interesting your mind is to me, Fredericks,” said Draco, intentionally mistaking his name. It had the desired effect as Karl sputtered and cast Yann an angry look and Yann himself seemed offended to be confused with Karl.

“You are more than welcome to find a private tutor outside of school to work with if it means that much to you,” said Potter. “Occlumency is incredibly difficult, and Professor Malfoy is the only person on staff who has ever successfully taught it to another person other than the Headmistress, who has much, much better things to do with her days.”

“How are you focusing on that right now, Karl?” Rose demanded. “That was incredible! You should be so grateful he’s even willing to give up his time to meet with students privately. It’s a really rare and important skill. You are neither rare nor important, so I don’t know what you were expecting for yourself.” She glared at him and added, “And Albus was incredible too! I bet no one else has ever done so well on their first try!”

“That’s true,” Draco said quickly. “I should have said that, yes. Albus was the first person to get it right on his first time. That was quite incredible really. Twenty points to Slytherin.” 

Later that night, Draco, already quite drunk, threw himself down heavily on Blaise’s armchair and moaned, “It was so horrible. Albus - little Albus Potter, aw - Albus, he had just done this incredible - I mean, his first time? All three? Unheard of!” Draco spilled some of his drink on himself as he gesticulated wildly. “And then Rose Granger-Weasley defended me in front of everyone - unnecessary because I’m an incredible bloody teacher and speak for myself, and Scorpius looked at her like she’d - like she’d moved the sun, or something, I don’t know. He’s very taken with her. And Albus looked over at him and saw that and just got so, so sad.” Draco’s lips curled down. “So, so, so sad.”

“Noooo!” Marcus Flint, equally drunk and genuinely invested in the personal lives of children, roared. Scorpius had described the muggle television to Draco, and Marcus’s enthusiasm suggested that perhaps they could all do with a wizard equivalent. “On Albus’s special day?”

“On Albus’s special day!”

“But he loves Scorpius,” Marcus moaned. “Why don’t any of these children get it?”

Millicent and Blaise exchanged a look, and Blaise cleared his throat. “Draco, it is very sweet how much you care about Albus. Marcus, slightly less sweet. But are you perhaps projecting because you had to see Nagini, Fenrir, and fiendfyre today? You think that maybe that’s why you’re so upset? Hm? And not because your son has a very casual Valentine’s Day date with a girl who, by your accounts, doesn’t actually seem to like him very much?”

Draco thrust his cup out and snarled, “No, the _drinking_ is because of Nagini and Fenrir and fiendfyre, _Millicent._ The sorrow, though - the sorrow’s for Albus.”

Millicent smiled at him disbelievingly. “You’re patently ridiculous, Malfoy.”

“I mean, who could have known the kid was straight?” Marcus asked. “Really, who could have guessed it? I really gave Alwin and Matilda some bad intel there. Hope they didn’t pass it on. Definitely did, though.”

“Don’t spread rumors about my kid, Flint. He’s a child.”

“Most rumors about Scorp were spread by adults, Malfoy,” said Marcus. “He’s been in the major leagues since he was two years old.”

“You’re being very binary, Marcus,” said Millicent. “A fourteen-year-old boy has a date with a girl. That’s all. In no way does this determine anything about his future choices.”

“Besides,” Blaise said. “Wouldn’t you much rather have Hermione and Ron as in-laws? Instead of the Potters?”

“Oh!” Draco cried. “I hadn’t - well, I hadn’t thought about it that way.”

“Good! Because he’s fourteen!” said Millicent. “Merlin’s beard, all of you.”

“No, no, because now I change my mind,” slurred Draco. “Now we - now we all root for Rose, okay?”

Marcus groaned in disapproval, and Millicent shot Blaise a dirty look before transfiguring all the remaining alcohol to water. Blaise spread his arms out angrily. “Some of that was expensive, Millicent! You can’t transfigure it back at the same quality!”

Millicent sneered at him and pointed her wand at Draco. “Now, would you rather go to sleep, or do I have to use a sobering spell on you?”

Draco went cross-eyed staring at her wand then mumbled, “Just do the sobering spell.”

After the tremors had subsided and emesis had left his system, Draco spat into the bin that Millicent had provided and vanished the vomit himself. He spat agan and wrinkled his nose. “You know, I really thought for a second that my boggart might have changed to Fenrir. He scared me the most of any of my father’s colleagues when I was a child but is so much scarier when you have your own child to worry about.”

“That makes sense,” Blaise remarked calmly, apparently on board with the plan to pretend that Draco and Marcus hadn’t been deeply upset about a bunch of fourteen year olds’ drama only moments ago. “It’s why he was so effective at his job; parents were terrified that he would come for their children. Plus, he is the only living Death Eater that Harry Potter never caught. Nasty git.”

“He’s alive?” Marcus asked. “Oh, no, someone should do something about that.” He pointed at Millicent. “Do not come at me with a sobering spell, honey.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, sweetness,” Millicent said sarcastically. “I’m fairly certain that Fenrir was top priority while Potter was still in charge. I doubt the current leadership would change any of Potter’s policies.”

“He’s not planning on coming back to Britain,” Blaise speculated. “Plenty of victims in places where he isn’t considered public enemy number one. He doesn’t have that Dark Lord-type arrogance that would draw him back here when he’s safer and just as well-fed elsewhere.”

“The boggarts are the worst,” Draco mumbled, already half-asleep. “Seeing these kids with such real fears. The war is over. They should… they shouldn’t be thinking about this stuff.”

He slid into sleep just as Millicent was whispering, “Does he not remember that Fenrir was _his_ boggart? Does he think it was Albus Severus’s?”

*

Albus looked up from the letter that Scorpius had passed him and gave him a perplexed, somewhat disgusted look that Scorpius found to be remarkably funny. “And Marcus Flint isn’t even actually your uncle, right? He’s really just some bloke who’s friends with your dad?” 

“Albus, you call almost every adult you know your aunt and uncle.”

“I’m a Weasley, Scorpius. Most of them _are_ my aunt or uncle. And none of those random adults would send me such a long, verbose letter just because it was the morning of my first date. Correct me if I’m wrong: Marcus Flint is the troll-man, right? Alwin’s father? I was unaware that he knew words.”

“I think it’s sweet,” said Scorpius, who really didn’t have any family besides his father and increasingly confused grandmother. He rather enjoyed the fact that all of his father’s ridiculous friends focused both their nurturing instincts and desire to return vicariously to Hogwarts on him. 

Albus wrinkled his nose. “I think that any adult wizard who uses the word ‘coy’ to describe a fourteen-year-old girl should be in Azkaban.”

“The advice section was… I am going to ignore that bit,” Scorpius admitted reluctantly. “It came from the right place though.”

“Hard disagree on that, Scorpius. I think the place where it came from is actually the worst part of the letter.”

Scorpius burst out laughing at the frankness of Albus’s offense to the letter, and Albus hid his smile in a glass of pumpkin juice. He was very relieved to have Albus joking around with him again. He had been acting strangely since Scorpius started studying with Rose, probably feeling lonely and excluded even though he could have joined them in the library if he’d really wanted to. Rose agreeing to a Valentine’s Day date in Hogsmeade hadn’t helped the situation. Scorpius told himself that he wasn’t actually abandoning Albus because Albus resolutely refused to go to Hogsmeade whether or not Scorpius had a date there; the difference, however, was that before Rose, Scorpius would have also stayed at Hogwarts with him. 

He wanted to ask Albus what he was intending to do here without him but didn’t want to raise the issue when they’d gotten through almost all of breakfast without anything sending Albus into a strop. Albus’s almost-distance over the past few weeks had been very upsetting for Scorpius. His behavior seemed normal enough other than the few odd moments where Scorpius could tell that he was holding back his normally unfiltered thoughts or choosing to sit on his own bed instead of dramatically flopping onto Scorpius’s. Sometimes he would do things by himself that he normally waited to do until Scorpius was there with him, which was fine, except it hurt Scorpius’s stomach a little bit, and he knew Albus well enough to know that it was all definitely intentional. Albus was an expert at passive aggression. Scorpius was annoyed at him for holding him at arm’s length like everyone else and simultaneously hurt that Albus was not giving him as much attention as before, all while being unable to pinpoint what exactly was different about Albus’s behavior. It was very well-crafted sulking.

Scorpius had so far just followed Albus’s lead in pretending that nothing had changed. They had been friends for five years, and although Scorpius was aware of how self-destructive Albus could be in a lot of his personal relationships, it had never been an issue for Scorpius himself. He was confident that it would never be an issue for him and Albus, because Albus was his best friend in the whole world and Scorpius loved him and had held his hand and cried on his shoulder during the funeral. Those things didn't go away just because Albus was having a particularly moody month. However, at this moment in time, Scorpius wasn’t sure how to approach the situation and was unwilling to take any risks with the relationship, so he was just careful when Albus was sulking and grateful when he acted normally.

Scorpius continued to beam at him for some time after he stopped laughing, and Albus shot him a sly look before he rolled his eyes and remarked, “You’re so excited.”

Scorpius perked up, tentatively hopeful that they would be able to discuss the date together. He was, realistically, much more terrified than he was excited and was at present unsure of why he ever felt the need to move the relationship beyond sitting next to each other in the library. “I’m excited that she talks to me at all.”

Albus picked up a half-eaten slice of toast then set it down again. He interlaced his fingers and regarded Scorpius calmly, giving him his full attention. “Go on.”

Scorpius blinked. “On?”

“I’m listening. Get your panic out.”

“Oh. Oh! You don’t have to talk to me about this if you don’t care. Thank you though!”

“Just by looking at you, I can tell you’re going to word vomit every thought you’ve had for the past 24 hours the moment you see her, so just… do it to me instead and get it out of your system.” Albus waved a hand idly for him to continue. “I’ll zone out if it’s boring.”

Scorpius smiled at him so widely that his face hurt, and Albus shot him a sidelong glance and rolled his eyes again. Scorpius wanted to hug him but instead blurted out every thought that he’d had over the past week, selectively filtering out the thoughts that pertained to Albus which actually accounted for a significant fraction of Scorpius’s bandwidth. 

Albus made a few faces but otherwise listened politely as Scorpius attempted to recall word-for-word a conversation he’d heard between some older Slytherins about the merits of Madam Puddifoot’s. He looked less impressed as Scorpius described what he considered to be a rather charming anecdote about Rose hitting him with a Silencing Charm in the library a few nights ago and gave Scorpius a look like he ought to consider being offended about that, but Scorpius brushed it off. 

“You’re done?” Albus asked after a long silence in which Scorpius focused only on catching his breath. Scorpius nodded, and Albus said, “Don’t go to Madam Puddifoot’s. She’ll hate that. Any girl who’s worth a damn will hate that.”

“But that’s where you go on dates,” Scorpius told him.

“No, Scorpius, I know what it is,” Albus said slowly. “And if you bring Rose there, she’s going to think that you either don’t know her at all or just want to snog her. Make it easier on yourself and go to the Three Broomsticks.”

“But it’s Valentine’s Day.”

Albus paused. “So? That just means Puddifoot’s will be filled with even more insufferable couples than usual.”

Scorpius wrinkled his nose doubtfully. “It’s what’s done, though, isn’t it?” He regretted not having reached out to Blaise Zabini for advice. After spending days re-analyzing every piece of information his father had ever given him about his time at Hogwarts, he was able to appreciate that Blaise probably had a great wealth of knowledge to impart on how to date girls in Hogwarts, as evidenced by the way all the adults would make inside jokes about Blaise whenever any random girl’s name came up in a conversation. 

He also probably would have realized his father was gay if he’d analyzed these interactions more thoroughly at the time. The revelation felt so obvious and self-evident that Scorpius found it very easy to accept. He had witnessed Blaise and Daphne Zabini’s and Harry and Ginny Potter’s relationships, and his parents had had a very different dynamic. Scorpius was more struck by how he hadn’t figured it out on his own. He hadn’t even considered it to be a possibility. How many things was he overlooking because he hadn’t considered them to be possibilities? 

“Look, my parents gave me three pieces of advice before I left for Hogwarts. Don’t cast a spell without knowing what it does, use any bathroom you want, and don’t take your dates to Madam Puddifoot’s.”

“Excuse me - I need a moment. _Those_ are the three pieces of advice they gave you?”

“Well, and that Slytherin’s not so bad and I could ask the hat for whatever House I wanted, but that ended up being wrong, didn’t it? I do use whatever bathroom is closest to me at any given moment though - professors’, prefects’, girls’ sometimes, doesn’t matter. They taught me that.”

“Huh. I did always wonder why you felt so comfortable doing that.”

“Yeah, we consider bathroom limitations to restrict free thought and exploration. Something about basilisks and golden eggs and trolls and ghosts and whatnot. Standard Potter things. Mostly, I’m just a fan of convenience.”

Scorpius lifted his interlaced fingers and rested his chin on them as he smiled at Albus mockingly. “Fascinating. And I find it so interesting that absolutely none of those pieces of advice relate to your personal safety.”

Albus grinned back at him so teasingly that Scorpius wondered if he was pulling all of this out of arse. “Yeah, we consider recommendations related to our personal safety to be likely to be ignored, so they restricted their advice to the important things, so we’d know to follow them. That’s why I can say with complete confidence that Madam Puddifoot’s is not the move.”

Scorpius leaned forward. “Please, Mr. Potter, tell me more about your sage Hogwarts advice.”

Albus froze then smiled at him hesitantly. “I like when you call me that. It sounds like you’re actually talking about me.”

Scorpius blinked, genuinely confused for a moment. “Who else would I be talking about?”

A huge smile blossomed over Albus’s face, and his cheeks turned pink. He took a long sip of his pumpkin juice then continued to explain (right before Scorpius was about to cry “Oh! Right! Your dad!”) as if he’d never said anything, “My mum said she never once let a date bring her to Madam Puddifoot’s, and judging by the way Uncle George talks about it, she went on a lot of dates, so I reckon that translates to probably two or three people besides my dad?”

“That’s a lot of people!” said Scorpius, who fully intended to marry Rose.

“Yeah, I think so too,” said Albus. “How many tries does it take? Just pick a person. But my dad was dating this other woman - girl at the time, I suppose, and she asked him to bring her to Madam Puddifoot’s, and he mucked the whole thing up. But I think he was distracted because they were also creating a secret army and the decor reminded him of being tortured in one of the professor’s offices.” Albus rolled his eyes. “That really is the issue with them trying to share anything about their Hogwarts experiences. There are always a ton of moving pieces, and none of the advice relates to an ordinary student’s life. Once in first year I told my dad I had trouble with the staircases, and he gave me some long explanation that amounted to: ‘If you find a three-headed dog guarding a trapdoor, come see me immediately’. And that made sense to him.”

Scorpius absorbed this quietly. After Albus’s vulnerability, he didn’t want to spook him by begging for information about Harry and Ginny Potter. Scorpius was starting to think that maybe he just shouldn’t leave at all and should stay at Hogwarts and talk to Albus all day because a date sounded terrifying and he didn’t want to waste a second of Albus’s good mood, but then Ezra and Stuart dropped down on either side of them, and the moment was ruined. 

Stuart elbowed Scorpius in the ribs. “You seem ready. You feel ready?”

“All of us down in the Hogwarts netherworld are deeply relieved that you voted NO on the hair gel, Malfoy,” Ezra teased. “We saw you staring at it for about an hour this morning.”

Albus smiled tightly and joked, “It couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes.”

“It just seemed like I should do something special,” Scorpius muttered. “I decided against it.”

“Right,” said Stuart. “What kind of animal goes on a date with only their standard 30-minute daily showering routine?”

“Filthy pig people, that’s who,” said Ezra. “Filthy pig people who only let their deep conditioner sit for five minutes.”

“Why do you pay so much attention to what Malfoy does in the shower, Tobbins?” Emmanuel asked as he slid into the open seat across the bench. Scorpius groaned internally and cast Albus what he hoped was an apologetic look, or perhaps one of mourning for their pleasant conversation being ruined by the other Slytherin boys. Albus did not meet his eye, and Scorpius’s stomach hurt the same way it had when Albus went up to Astronomy with Diedrich Mulpepper so Scorpius had to go from the library down to the dungeons to find Albus and back up to the Astronomy Tower all by himself.

“What brand of deep conditioner do you use, Scorpius?” Adelaide asked in her light-hearted, mean-girl voice as she joined Emmanuel.

Scorpius frowned at the sudden appearance of all the other third years before focusing on Adelaide and Emmanuel and saying, “Great to see you guys! I’m going to go pick up my date! I guess I’ll see you two there!”

He felt like he’d dropped a decoy detonator as he pushed himself out from the Slytherin bench while everyone started teasing Adelaide and Emmanuel and Adelaide and Emmanuel lashed out with viciousness Scorpius could not even fathom. He halted, wondering if he should hug Albus or touch his shoulder or maybe kiss the top of his head or something, any sort of acknowledgement that he was his favorite and Scorpius was sad to be saying goodbye for the day, but all of the other Slytherin third years were there now and Albus wasn’t even looking at him. In the end, he just hurried out of the Great Hall to wait at his and Rose’s designated meeting point on the ground. 

It occurred to him, as he waited there, that Rose might just not show up. If he thought that facing the Slytherins before their date was bad, he couldn’t imagine what the Gryffindors were saying about him. It actually seemed incredibly likely that Rose would skip out on the date. Scorpius would surely never bring it up to her. It would be impolite.

He had cleared, dried, and warmed a semicircle around a denudate, snow-covered tree and sat reading the Climate Change: Essentially Unsolvable chapter of the Muggle Studies textbook when someone stomped up to him in a pair of heavy-duty snow boots then kicked a light dusting of snow into his face.

Scorpius made a face and squinted up at Rose. She had the sun at her back, and he could barely see her face but was fully able to appreciate her snow pants and heavy-duty purple parka. Scorpius smiled at her silhouette. “I absolutely adore the practicality of your outfit.”

Rose snorted and kicked a heavier pile of snow into his face. “We go on lots of muggle winter vacations.” She extended a mittened hand to help him up, and Scorpius accepted eagerly.

He beamed at her as he tucked the Muggle Studies book into his messenger bag. “Did you know mittens conserve more heat than gloves? Very wise, Rose. Very wise.”

“Incredible jokes, Scorpius. Really leading with your best foot.” Rose watched with a bemused expression as some snow melted off his heating charmed cloak. “So where are we going today?”

“Three Broomsticks, I thought,” Scorpius said warily.

Rose grinned at him and knocked their shoulders together before setting off on the path to Hogsmeade. “Not Puddifoot’s? Seems more up your alley.”

“Okay, now I’m thinking Hog’s Head, then I’ll leave you to crawl back into your nest made of, I presume, spare snow pants in the Shrieking Shack.”

Rose laughed loudly, and her smile didn’t start to fade for almost a minute after they’d fallen into comfortable silence. Scorpius’s heart rate had finally relaxed back to normal when Rose struck up a conversation about the Muggle Studies unit that carried them easily to the Three Broomsticks. Scorpius, truly, was barely panicking by the time he returned to their table by the window and set a Butterbeer in front of her. The arrival of the drink was followed by a silence that was just bordering on awkward when Scorpius pointed out a Ravenclaw fifth year who was laughing a little too boisterously with another boy and girl who appeared to be dating and whispered, “So that girl is definitely planning to use her own blood in a love potion to steal her best friend’s boyfriend.”

Rose let out a surprised, high-pitched little laugh. “What?”

Scorpius pointed out another couple, a sixth year boy and a rather despondent-looking girl. “And that boy has been planning on breaking up with his girlfriend for weeks but due to her birthday, Valentine’s Day, and a string of freak tragedies hasn’t been able to find the right time to do it.”

This was a pretty consistent pastime for him and Albus, making up fake backstories for the people around them. Albus, who was more comfortable making harsh, biting commentary about random strangers, was much better at it than Scorpius. Rose caught on almost immediately and nodded to where one of the Slytherin chasers was leaning almost menacingly over a Hufflepuff sixth year girl. “Okay, that guy definitely has names for both of his biceps and his cock, and right now he’s promising he’ll tell that poor little Hufflepuff what the names are if she plays her cards right.”

Scorpius clapped a hand over his mouth, stifling a sharp laugh, then pulled it back and whispered, “I know that guy, and he definitely does.”

“Is it ‘wham’, ‘bam’, and ‘thank you, ma’am’?”

“It is!” Scorpius cried. “I find it highly suspicious that you got that on the first guess.”

“You’ve caught me,” Rose said sardonically, draining the rest of her Butterbeer through a metal straw. He had never seen anyone drink a Butterbeer like that before, but Rose claimed that it reduced teeth staining. Scorpius had made fun of her for it until she smiled at him mischievously with the straw still in her mouth, at which time he blushed bright red and changed the subject as fast as possible.

Rose was much easier to talk to than Scorpius had anticipated. It was surprising that, given the fact that she and Albus did not get along at all as cousins, the two of them had very similar senses of humor. It made joking around with her feel very natural, as if they had prolonged conversations all the time when really their only positive interactions thus far had been studying next to each other in silence. As most of the patrons of the Three Broomsticks were other students on awkward dates, they had plenty of material to mock to carry them through most of the afternoon when they weren’t debating course material from one of their classes or an article from a recent issue of the Prophet. 

At some point late in the afternoon, they ordered food, at which point Scorpius was able to pause and appreciate that they had been talking for hours with no uncomfortable lulls in the conversation. Yes, they were surrounded by older couples eating each other’s faces, but Scorpius couldn’t help feeling like their date was going better than any of theirs. It was just like hanging out with Albus! If that’s what dating was, he could handle it.

The sun was already setting when Rose leaned in and said, “I think it’s time for you to walk me back to my snow pants nest.”

“Not just snow pants,” said Scorpius as he stood up and extended a hand to help her up, which Rose definitely would have refused before their date. “I’m sure there’s also a wide variety of twigs and shiny things.”

“Oh! So I’m a niffler now?”

“I was thinking dragon,” said Scorpius, thinking of Smaug. He opened the door for her, and she once again made no cracks about his chivalrous manners. “Rose the Terrible.”

She beamed at him. “I used to love The Hobbit when I was a kid.”

She launched into a recollection of an allegedly atrocious muggle adaptation of the book that she and her granddad had seen a few years ago. She even attempted to sing a few bars of a song, which Scorpius found endlessly endearing. He simply had to laugh or make scandalized noises at the right moments, and Rose brought the conversation home on her own. 

As they reached the Hogwarts grounds, Scorpius wondered if this was the moment when he had to decide whether or not he was going to try to kiss her. He wished he’d grabbed her hand at the beginning of the walk back to school, although the idea of holding her mittened hand for the whole walk seemed almost comical. 

“Well,” said Rose with some finality as they walked into the castle and headed automatically to where the other students had probably already coalesced in the Great Hall for dinner. “This was _much_ less awful than I expected, Scorpius.”

“Thank you! I thought so too!”

She stopped outside the Great Hall and held out her hand. “To a successful first date.”

Scorpius shook her hand firmly like they’d just signed a big deal. Neither of them let go immediately afterwards, and Rose gave him a wry little smile like she had with the Butterbeer straw. Scorpius stared at her, trying to summon the courage to progress from handshake, and Rose’s smile grew wider and more mocking until Scorpius felt his whole body getting very warm. He used their handshake to tug her forward and clumsily pressed his lips against hers.

He froze, absolutely no idea what to do at this point, then Rose put her free hand on his cheek and encouraged him to deepen the kiss for a few seconds before she pulled back. Both pink-cheeked, they shook hands once more then released. Scorpius’s arms dangled awkwardly at his sides, and he couldn’t seem to remember what he had done with his arms before this date. Rose was smiling and couldn’t meet his eyes, which Scorpius took as a good sign.

Without speaking, they started to walk together into the Great Hall. They paused in the entrance. Rose opened her mouth to speak and then shut it again. Scorpius did the same. They stood in front of each other in silence for a moment. Finally, Rose said, “So want to work on the Transfiguration essay together on Tuesday?”

“Yes!” Scorpius cried. “Yes, let’s - let’s do that.”

Rose smiled and said, “Okay, bye,” before hurrying off to find Fitz and Melissa at the Gryffindor table.

The other Slytherins had already gathered together by the time Scorpius got to the table and were collectively gaping at him. Scorpius stood in front of the bench in silence until Albus elbowed Emmanuel to move down and make room so that Scorpius could take his normal seat next to him. A deep wave of relief crashed over him the moment he felt Albus’s comfortable presence at his side, and he realized that, no matter how nice the conversation had been, he’d been on edge for the whole day. He leaned his arm firmly into Albus’s as their classmates bombarded him with invasive questions.

“Shut it, you lot,” Ezra shouted finally. “If everyone keeps yelling, he’s not going to be able to hear and answer my questions specifically!”

“Excuse me,” said Adelaide. “Who made your questions so important?”

“As the only person at this table who has snogged a girl,” began Ezra.

“Well, that’s not just true,” Stuart interrupted with a snort, nudging Emmanuel and Adelaide with each arm. 

“You meant to nudge Rhiannon, mate,” said Ezra. “Classic mistake.”

“Classic,” agreed Stu.

“Can we all mutually agree to go back to hassling Scorpius?” Emmanuel asked loudly.

“Right!” cried Ezra. He smacked Scorpius in the arm. “Go on then. Did you slip her the tongue?”

“I truly do not know what you’re saying,” Scorpius lied innocently. 

Albus grinned at him then stuck his tongue out, which Scorpius echoed with a politely perplexed look on his face.

“That’s not - that isn’t what I meant,” said Ezra. 

“Did you, Scorpius Malfoy, snog her, Rose Granger-Weasley?” Stuart asked slowly. 

Scorpius kept his lips pressed tightly together to suppress his smile. “Hm?”

“Merlin’s beard, I think he actually did,” said Emmanuel with open awe. “But no. She hates you! It can’t be.”

Scorpius started stuffing food into his face as their classmates began to debate, without consulting him once more, whether or not they thought Rose would actually kiss Scorpius. The popular consensus seemed to be that no, that would be impossible. He kicked Albus under the table and raised his eyebrows, and Albus boggled at him for a second then steadied his expression with remarkable skill. 

When they were back in the dorm, and Scorpius could flop onto Albus’s bed and throw up a _Muffliato_ around them, Albus dropped down next to him and scream-whispered, “WHAT!”

“It went so well!” Scorpius whispered back. “We played the judging people game and talked about school, and then we shared a - a firm handshake.”

“Firm handshake,” repeated Albus, looking generally astonished. “Is that a euphemism?”

“It is not!” Scorpius said excitedly. “And then I kissed her and was, by my own estimation, incredibly suave.”

Albus cocked his head to the side and grinned at him mockingly. “Suave, yup, sounds like you. I assume you took every piece of Uncle Marcus’s advice?”

“Scorpius ‘Suave’ Malfoy,” said Scorpius. “That will be what they call me from now on.”

“Uh huh, I believe it,” said Albus, clearly teasing him. He nodded enthusiastically, and Scorpius pushed his hand into Albus’s face to shut him up. Albus swatted him away with a huge grin on his face. “Did you pick her up and push her against the wall like Uncle Marky Mark said?”

“Oh no, is Uncle Marcus a predator?” Scorpius whispered loudly.

Albus roared with laughter. “I think he’s just an ordinary creep living vicariously through his dashing young nephew.”

“Aw, thank you,” said Scorpius. “I should write to him. Let him know how effective his step-by-step instructions were.”

“Noo,” Albus moaned, still laughing. “You did not.”

“No, I did not,” Scorpius admitted. “We kind of - we just - we shook hands, and then I just kind of grabbed her hand and pulled her forwards, and then we kissed for three whole seconds.”

Albus’s smile faded quickly. “Wow.”

“And now we’re going to write our Transfiguration essays together on Tuesday.”

“Double wow,” said Albus sarcastically.

“Hah.”

“It was - so you actually… wow, Scorpius.”

“I know!” Scorpius said enthusiastically. “Wow!”

“And you - you enjoyed it?”

It struck Scorpius as a weird question then struck him as very odd that he hadn’t asked himself that question. “I - yes, I think - if there weren’t so much pressure, it might be more… yes! Final answer, yes. Enjoyable experience.” He paused. “Really, really stressful though. It was very - have you ever - yes, good. Final answer.”

“Okay, it sounds like it was really good,” Albus said seriously. Scorpius frowned at him, and he smiled again, which was a huge relief. “So she’s your girlfriend? Rose?”

Scorpius thought this over. “She is not the girlfriend of someone other than me?”

“Huge win,” said Albus. He flopped down on the mattress next to Scorpius and turned his head to the side to look at him. Scorpius turned his face and realized that it was not actually that stressful to have his face mere inches away from someone else’s. Without the constant pressure of a date with someone he barely knew, it made his pulse race in a rather pleasant way. Scorpius beamed at him, and Albus smiled back tentatively at first then more comfortably as Scorpius scooched slightly closer. “So tell me about all of the people you judged today.”


	11. November 1994 (September 2016)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This is the ONLY chapter that will contain full scenes of dialogue ripped almost entirely from Harry Potter and the Cursed Child (which means that the alternate timelines will be different than in the play). Any scenes where I skip all the dialogue can be assumed to be word-for-word translations of Cursed Child. It was written very quickly because it turns out that copy/pasting entire scenes is really boring and unfulfilling!

Scorpius attempted his most charming smile under the scrutinizing gaze of the Minister of Magic and her clever, famous husband. He had been over to their house over five (exactly six) times this summer, and it never got any easier. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Granger-Weasley.” He paused. Ron and Hermione exchanged a doubtful expression like they already knew where this conversation was going. “Mr. Granger and Mrs. Weasley. No, Mrs. Granger and Mr. Weasley, who together produced Rose Granger-Weasley, who is, of course, with your permission, which I hope to receive, my girlfriend. As I have the utmost respect for the two of you-”

“And us you, mate,” cut in Ron, putting him out of his misery. “Look, Scorpius, as long as you never even dream of touching our daughter, we’re on board with this. This has to be the third time we’ve had this conversation. You’re starting to become the one putting us through this.”

“Ron, don’t - they’re growing - Scorpius, we want your relationship with Rose to grow in a natural, healthy way. We think it is… beautiful,” said Hermione uncertainly. She looked to Ron for support.

Ron nodded quickly. “Truly, truly… just a really spectacular… love. A spectacular love!”

“Okay, well, nothing is growing,” Scorpius assured them quickly. Ron gave him an appraising look, and Scorpius turned bright red. “I mean - our relationship is progressing as - it would be a lot easier if you two hated me, honestly.”

“It would be easier on us too,” Ron admitted. “You’re both much too young to be dating if you ask me.”

“Yes, I… I remember your speech about how we should spend our time on the run from dark wizards until we’re eighteen, Mr. Granger-Weasley! It really… it struck a chord with me. I will live everyday as if a dark wizard is hunting me personally.”

“Ron, you’re traumatizing the children,” Hermione whispered. “Look at him.”

“I’m fine! Untraumatized and ready for all advice and suggestions that you two wise but still youthful adults have to offer me!”

“He’s terrified!” Hermione said. “We are _not_ scary parents.”

“No, you aren’t!” Scorpius said quickly. Where was Rose? How was he alone for this? Had he, as Ron suggested, really brought this upon himself? He was indeed correct that they had shared an almost identical conversation several times already.

“Scorpius!” Albus shouted, saving Scorpius from his nightmare of a conversation. Every minute he looked at Rose’s parents brought him a minute closer to screaming, _I felt up your daughter at the Burrow this summer, and I give you permission to kill me!_ “Scorpius, I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

“And now you’ve found me!” Scorpius said cheerfully. _I’ve put my fingers inside your daughter, and I absolutely insist that you murder me on the spot!_ “Ta-da! I was just here with Rose’s - with Rose’s lovely parents!” _Rose wants to discuss progressing our relationship with our mouths, and if you know Legilimency, please strike me down where I stand!_

Albus hugged Scorpius tightly, and Scorpius froze for a moment before returning the hug with equal ferocity. If the past year had taught him anything, it was that if someone felt that they needed a hug, he would give them the best hug he could muster. It helped, of course, that it was Albus. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d really hugged - possibly, and it shocked him to realize this, never. Scorpius nudged his nose into the crook of Albus’s neck and said, “Do we hug? Is this a thing we’ve done before?”

“Just a slightly weird 24 hours.” Albus pulled back and smiled at him sheepishly before glancing up at his aunt and uncle. “Oh, er - hello.”

“Hello, Albus,” said Hermione matter-of-factly, the only member of Albus’s extended family to call him by the name he requested. “Why don’t you boys get on the train now?”

“Yes!” said Scorpius. “The train! Really brilliant idea, Mrs. Minister-Weasley. I mean, Granger-Weasley.” _If I escape with my life, I will never grind my erection against your daughter again, and that is a promise._

“Bye, Scorpius,” said Ron. “Don’t forget we can read minds.”

“You can - ha, that’s really - I mean, very good - but of course your jokes are all - hah.”

“Scorpius, he’s messing with you,” Albus growled as he pulled him towards the train. With a fake smile, he called, “Bye, Aunt Hermione! Uncle Ron!”

Scorpius gave an equally fake smile and waved at them like a maniac as the train started to move under their feet. “Bye!” _Please let me marry your daughter._

The train picked up speed, and Albus rounded on Scorpius. “No one’s face has ever more openly said: _I DRY-HUMPED YOUR DAUGHTER BEHIND THE CHICKEN COOP AT THE BURROW.”_

Scorpius frowned at him. “Don’t - don’t say it like that, okay? And it was - it was behind the barn. The chicken coop is very public. That would be very untoward, Albus.”

“You have become a ridiculous person,” Albus told him seriously. “Anyway, doesn’t matter. We’re wasting time.”

“Actually, we have a few hours of just sitting and making gentle conversation ahead of us! I think Rose is off with the Gryffindors, so we’ll have some good, old-fashioned Scorpius and Albus time!”

“Delightful,” said Albus sardonically. “We have to get off this train.”

“No, but, see, the train is moving,” Scorpius explained. “We just got on the train.”

Albus practically pushed him into an empty compartment. “Then we have to get off a moving train.”

“A moving, magical train,” Scorpius said as Albus started to fuss around with the window. He opened it enough to squeeze through, and Scorpius had to grab him and drag him back down to ground level. “Albus Severus Potter, get that strange look out of your eye!”

“First question,” said Albus, clearly aware that Scorpius would be unable to resist the allure of trivia. “What do you know about the Triwizard Tournament?”

Scorpius’s face lit up. “Three schools pick three champions to compete in three tasks for one Cup! Or, in the case of your dad’s year, four champions. What’s that got to do with anything?”

Albus smiled at him. “You really are an enormous geek, you know that?”

“Ya-huh.” Scorpius prided himself on it. Plus, he was the first fourth year to have a girlfriend, which, by his and Rose’s self-congratulatory estimations, made him the coolest boy in their year. He was not, however, actually the coolest boy in his year. He wasn’t even the coolest boy in his house in his year, a title which surely went to Ezra Tobbins the Slytherin Muggle-Born.

“Second question: Why has the Triwizard Tournament not been run in over twenty years?”

“The last competition included your dad and a boy called Cedric Diggory. They decided to win together, but the Cup was a Portkey, and they were transported to Voldemort. Cedric was killed. They cancelled the competition immediately after.” Considering they had already cancelled the tournament once before due to an obscenely high death toll, Scorpius wondered if Albus had secret information that Hogwarts intended to bring it back. It seemed early; it had been cancelled for over a century after the last death. He had faith that it would be brought back again one day.

“Good,” said Albus. “Third question: Did Cedric need to be killed? Easy question, easy answer: No. The words Voldemort said were “Kill the spare.” The spare. He died only because he was with my father and my father couldn’t save him — we can. A mistake has been made and we’re going to right it. We’re going to use a Time-Turner. We’re going to bring him back.”

Scorpius opened and shut his mouth a few times as he processed what he could not believe was Albus’s plan. “Albus, for obvious reasons, I’m not a massive fan of Time-Turners…“

“When Amos Diggory asked for the Time-Turner, my father denied they even existed. He lied to an old man who just wanted his son back — who just loved his son. And he did it because he didn’t care — because he doesn’t care. Everyone talks about all the brave things Dad did. But he made some mistakes too. Some big mistakes, in fact. I want to set one of those mistakes right. I want us to save Cedric.”

Scorpius looked around wildly for someone to come put an end to this insanity. “Okay, whatever was holding your brain together seems to have snapped. I’m going to - let’s just go find Rose or James, shall we? Rose and James. They’ll put us right, won’t they? Really, just… wise souls, those two.”

Albus was practically vibrating with manic energy. “I’m going to do this, Scorpius. I need to do this. And you know as well as I do, I’ll entirely mess it up if you don’t come with me. Come on.” He started to climb through the window and paused to shoot Scorpius a cold look. “Or you could just stay here and snog your girlfriend.”

Albus disappeared through the window, and Scorpius clenched his fists in frustration before giving up and hoisting himself up and through the window. 

On the roof of the Hogwarts Express, Scorpius was blasted in the face by harsh, biting wind. He almost toppled backwards before Albus grabbed his wrist to steady him. Scorpius did a little nervous dance before almost toppling again and planting his feet. “Okay, now we’re on the roof of a train, it’s fast, it’s scary, this has been great, I feel like I’ve learnt a lot about me, something about you, but —”

Albus did not let go of his wrist but otherwise ignored his concern. “As I calculate it we should be approaching the viaduct soon and then it’ll be a short hike to St. Oswald’s Home for Old Witches and Wizards!”

Scorpius gaped at him. “The what? The where? Look, Albus, this has been a really great time, and I am not soon to forget it, but we… we need to go back whence we came.”

Albus ignored him once more, squinting his eyes against the wind to examine the scenery. “The water will be an extremely useful backup if our Cushioning Charm doesn’t work.”

“If our - Albus, we are not jumping off this train!”

Albus finally gave him his full attention. “I’m doing this, Scorpius! Stay here with your bloody girlfriend if you want! I need to get to St. Oswald’s Home, and a year ago, you would have done it with me!”

“I’ll still - I’m still doing it with you, Albus!” 

“Good, because I see the viaduct. Three! Two! One! _Molliare!”_

Albus jumped and disappeared out of sight. Scorpius made a tiny, miserable noise before repeating the incantation and following after him.

Scorpius splashed down into the water below. The cushioning charm had worked, but the freezing water knocked the breath out of his lungs. He loosened his grip on his wand while swimming to the surface and had to grab at it desperately before it slipped through his fingers forevermore. When he finally kicked his way to the surface, Albus was already there treading water.

“Are we happy with the way that turned out?” Scorpius gasped. “Is that - everything according to plan, then?”

“I think so,” Albus gasped. He gave Scorpius a brave smile. “To the shore, then?”

Albus started swimming towards the land, and Scorpius shouted, “Albus, do we think there are any critters in - ah!” Something brushed his foot, and he swam after Albus as fast as he could manage.

Albus already had his robes and most of his shirt off by the time Scorpius reached him, which Scorpius found to be both distracting and entirely unnecessary. He muttered a quick drying charm for both Albus and himself then followed it up with warming charms. Albus seemed very impressed, and Scorpius didn’t want to ask whether his plans had really been to just strip off his wet clothes and go starkers to a retirement home. The elderly witches would likely love it. In that way, it would really be a service to society.

As they walked along the bank, Scorpius watched very closely as Albus’s emotions visibly fluctuated between determination, anger, anxiety, and then back around. Finally, Scorpius broke the silence and asked, “So why are we walking to a magic retirement home?”

“I have to meet a friend there,” muttered Albus.

“Oh! I love old people. They really view me as their equal. Who’s your friend?”

“No, it’s - it’s a girl. Her uncle is there, and she’s his nurse.”

Scorpius halted in his tracks. Albus cast him a strange look, and he jogged to catch up with him. He struggled to sound very casual as he asked, “You met a girl?”

“Yup,” Albus said uselessly.

“Okay, this all makes much more sense. You could have led with that.” Scorpius frowned. “Why couldn’t I bring Rose then?”

“You didn’t ask to bring Rose,” Albus informed him.

“I - surely I asked if I could bring Rose,” Scorpius mused.

“Nope.”

“Oh,” said Scorpius. He should have asked to bring Rose. “Well, why do I need to be there for your very poorly-timed date? You had all summer, Albus.” He neglected to mention that this was all very needlessly dramatic, a sure sign of an Albus Severus Potter plan. 

“It’s not a date!” Albus said defensively. “I just told her I’d help her.”

“Very gallant, Albus. Help her with - wait.” Scorpius stopped again, and Albus gave his arm a sharp tug to keep him moving. “Her uncle lives there. Amos Diggory asked for… I was unaware that Amos Diggory had a niece?”

“You don’t know everything about every family,” Albus growled.

“I… know most things about most families, Albus,” said Scorpius. “We own lots of books on wizarding genealogies. What’s her name?”

“Delphi. Delphini.”

“Hm. I don’t think I’ve heard of her.” He smiled weakly. “Nice name, though. Very pretty name.”

“Yes, she - you’re missing the point.”

Scorpius bounced a bit as he walked. “You think she’s pretty!”

“I know she’s pretty!” Albus said. “That’s just not why we’re doing this.”

“Uh huh,” said Scorpius condescendingly. “I’m sure. So if a big ugly troll told you to steal a time turner to bring her dead cousin back to life…” 

“I’d do it! If it was my dad’s fault!”

Scorpius cut him off. “Albus, what happened to Cedric was not your dad’s _fault._ Maybe, in some alternate world where Harry Potter never existed, Cedric would be alive, but that doesn’t create causality. What’s going on with you?”

“He died because my dad suggested they take the Portkey together.”

“No, he died because Voldemort’s henchman hit him with a Killing Curse. Look, if you save Cedric, maybe you won’t ruin the timeline, but where does it end?”

“What do you mean?”

Scorpius felt that semi-familiar, candle-sized flame of anger light up in his stomach. “I mean Cedric was not the only person who was lost during the war, Albus. _Delphini_ is not the only person you care about who has lost someone they love. What about your uncle? Teddy’s parents? Your dad’s godfather? Either of your namesakes? _My mum?_ You can’t save the dead, Albus.”

“We can - no, if this works, then we could try to help your—”

“I wouldn’t want you to!” Scorpius shouted. “She’s dead! The only way to return the dead is with the resurrection stone, and they come back _wrong,_ Albus. There are even muggle stories about it because everyone knows that the dead are supposed to stay dead.”

“But this wouldn’t be resurrection.”

“No! This would be rewriting the entire history of the past twenty-two years! That doesn’t sound dangerous to you, Albus?”

“No, it’s - rewriting the entire history would be trying to save Albus Dumbledore. This is just a random seventeen-year-old kid who died too young.”

“But he wouldn’t be a random seventeen-year-old kid at this point, would he? He’d be an incredibly strong adult wizard. Cedric wasn’t just a random Hufflepuff! He was the Hogwarts champion - best in the school! That’s like saying that Teddy Lupin will have no effect on the course of history for the next twenty years.”

Albus sidestepped him and continued walking. “Scorpius, I think you’ve been reading too many muggle sci-fi novels. None of that is going to happen.”

Scorpius caught up with him easily. “Okay, Albus, muggle sci-fi time travel thought experiment: Your dad dated Cedric’s girlfriend after he died, right? He liked Cedric’s girlfriend? Then Cedric died and he dated her and realized that they were a shit couple? What if Cedric stayed alive and dated her for several more years, and your dad stewed in his jealousy, and your mum realized it was just time to move on, then bam! With little to no change, you don’t exist anymore. You see how easy that could be?”

Albus frowned. “That’s not - that won’t be what happens though. My parents love each other.”

“And let’s not forget the fact that if anyone catches me using a time turner, the entire Wizarding World would take it as concrete evidence that I am Voldemort’s child.”

“But you aren’t Voldemort’s child.”

“Yes. I know.”

“So we’ll just tell them that.”

“Really good plan! Why didn’t I think of that? Just tell them I’m not Voldemort’s kid! The simplicity of the plan is really its brilliance.”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“Don’t mess with time!”

Albus stopped walking and whacked Scorpius on the arm before pointing ahead to a rather isolated red brick house with a quaint thatched roof that boasted the name ST. OSWALD’S HOME FOR OLD WITCHES AND WIZARDS. Scorpius gave Albus a dismayed look, and Albus ran ahead. He looked back longingly in the direction from which they’d come then followed Albus inside.

Scorpius would describe St. Oswald’s Home for Old Witches and Wizards as, first and foremost, overwhelming. It was packed full of people. The air was full of enchanted objects flying around, shimmering, and exploding magnificently. Every piece of furniture had been animated. Everyone was laughing, talking loudly, and doing magic. Albus tried to get the attention of a nurse to ask for instructions while Scorpius simply took in the intimidating splendor of the Wizarding World’s premier nursing home. 

“We’re looking for Amos Diggory,” Albus said over the racket.

The room fell silent immediately. It made Scorpius’s heart hurt.

“And what do you boys want with that miserable old sod?” an old witch asked them.

“Albus? Albus! You came?” From a dark hallway, a tall witch of roughly the same age as Teddy Lupin appeared to run up to Albus. “How wonderful! Come and say hello to Amos!” She was distinctive-looking and fairly attractive, Scorpius decided, with a thin frame and even thinner face, silver-blue hair, and heavy eye makeup. When she smiled at Albus, her whole face lit up, which made her look quite nice. Overall, though, the woman gave Scorpius the creeps, and he did not like the way Albus was smiling at her one bit. 

Amos Diggory turned out to be, as the old witch had claimed, a miserable old sod. Scorpius had a lot of sympathy for sad old people; his own grandmother was a sad old person. The major difference, of course, was that his grandmother wasn’t asking children to alter time to bring Lucius back for her. Amos did, to his credit, appreciate that he wanted the help of Harry Potter and not two teenagers, but Delphi convinced him to accept Albus’s help. Albus seemed honored by her faith while Scorpius really thought that all signs pointed to this being a truly terrible idea.

As Delphini explained her plan to get the old “Nott” time turner, which all three of them were clearly aware but too polite to say was really the Malfoy time turner, Albus listened attentively and Scorpius felt his ears buzz with the desperate need to extricate himself from this situation. She seemed quite confident that it was in the possession of the current Minister of Magic rather than the Department of Mysteries, where Scorpius really believed all time turners ought to be. Delphi retired to her room to collect some Polyjuice potion, and Scorpius grabbed Albus’s arm desperately.

“Albus, why does she have Polyjuice on hand?”

Albus did not seem troubled. “Because she was going to do this plan without us?”

“She collected - Albus, this is insane! She has your dad’s hair! She has Ron and Hermione’s hair! How has she already collected this, and why has she collected hair with the assumption of a three-person team?

“Stop saying my name like this. Your dad has Polyjuice potion on hand.”

“My dad is a Potions Master.” Scorpius grabbed both of Albus’s shoulders. “Albus, she has three hairs, of your dad, your aunt, and your uncle. That doesn’t freak you out?”

“Not particularly, no. It’s the best way to infiltrate the Ministry.”

Scorpius leaned in very closely and whispered, “I don’t want to offend you, but I’m going to check if you’ve been Imperiused, so please drop your Occlumency walls for a second, okay?”

Albus pushed him away angrily. “What! No, Scorpius! I haven’t been Imperiused!”

“Are you sure? I don’t think an Imperiused person would admit it.”

“Scorpius, if she were Imperiusing us, why wouldn’t she do you, too? Plus, I can shake off the Imperius. I can shake off anything.”

“Have you tried shaking off the Imperius?”

“I’m going to say no,” said Albus cheerfully. “But I’m confident in my abilities.”

“Did you - did my dad use the Imperius on you? Did your dad use the Imperius on you? Albus, that is really sketchy. This is all - let’s just go back to Hogwarts, please.” Scorpius’s voice broke so tellingly that Albus stopped looking combative and actually seemed concerned.

“Everything going well?” Delphi asked warmly as she returned to meet them with three unmarked vials in her hands. She looked at Scorpius and smiled. “You seem very tense.”

Under her intense gaze, he couldn’t think of anything better to say than, “No, I’m fine.”

She handed a vial to Albus who frowned at the golden liquid inside. “Which one is this one?”

“I thought you’d like to be your dad. Mannerisms and whatnot.”

“No, I’ll take Ron,” Albus said firmly.

Scorpius sighed and accepted Harry Potter’s Polyjuice solution grimly. Albus did not seem to be Imperiused. He might be under the influence of a love potion or he might just really like Delphi. Either way, neither were things that Scorpius had the ability to fix right now. He wasn’t going to leave Albus alone with this woman, who he had ascertained to be almost exactly Teddy’s age but didn’t inspire the same instant sense of ease and camaraderie as they did.

Delphi had the whole thing prepared, which wasn’t an issue in itself. Of course, it was Delphi’s plan, so she should be the one who had all the steps organized. The really concerning part of the plan was that it had clearly been designed for three people from the beginning. Scorpius didn’t want to push the point with Delphi around, and she stuck to Albus like a sticking charm. Every step of the way, Scorpius told himself that he’d figure out a way to put an end to it, and every step of the way, he never got the chance.

They had transformed and gotten all the way to Hermione’s office in the Ministry of Magic when they heard a group of familiar voices approaching them. Scorpius, Albus, and Delphi exchanged panicked looks before determining that Ron was not present in the group and waving Albus desperately out into the hallway. Scorpius and Delphi pressed against the wall of the office and listened closely.

Hermione had just finished saying, “... more factors at play here.”

Albus leaned awkwardly against the door and interrupted whatever Harry Potter had been about to say with a cheerful “Surprise!”

“What are you doing here?” Hermione asked.

“Does a man need an excuse to see his wife?” Scorpius heard Albus say. He and Delphi exchanged disbelieving eye contact at the undeniable sound of Albus kissing Hermione Granger. Delphi did, Scorpius had to admit, look quite pretty when she was laughing, and he understood the appeal of sharing a joke with her. Over the next few minutes, Albus blustered through the conversation and kissed his aunt several times while Delphi kept a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter and Scorpius gaped at her as the only one who could appreciate the hilarity of this situation with him.

It was all very funny other than Albus’s completely unprecedented revelation that his dad had said - what exactly? That he wished Albus weren’t his son? It sounded very unlike the Harry Potter in Scorpius’s head and gave valuable context to Albus’s erratic moods over the past day. 

Delphi began to look around the office as Scorpius whispered, “Albus, about what your dad said.”

Albus looked alarmed and slightly angry. It probably couldn’t help that this concern was coming out of his dad’s mouth. “You heard that?”

“Boys, search the bookcases,” Delphi called from the other side of the office.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Scorpius said quietly, aware Delphi could hear everything they were saying.

“My dad says he wishes I weren’t his son. Hardly a conversation starter, is it?”

Scorpius frowned. “I know that the - Voldemort thing isn’t - true - and - you know - but sometimes, I think I can see my dad thinking: How did I produce this? I know I wasn’t what he expected. I think that he tries really hard because his dad - I don’t think he liked my father very much either, as an heir, but sometimes I think he just wanted something… different.”

 _“Still_ better than my dad. I’m pretty sure he spends most of his time thinking: How can I give him back?”

Delphi grabbed the collar of Albus’s shirt and dragged him towards the bookshelves, giving him a helpful shove to get going. Scorpius was appalled and angrily protective. “Maybe if we could concentrate on the matter at hand.”

*

Scorpius did not anticipate them getting the time turner. If he had been just a bit cleverer, he would have failed the riddle on purpose, but Scorpius loved riddles and books and the whole thing really ran away with him until suddenly they were holding the only working time turner in existence. He had never been around a horcrux but could certainly feel the evil emanating from this particular object. This very time turner was the reason his grandfather had died in Azkaban and the reason that horrible rumors would follow Scorpius for the rest of his life. The only thing he really liked about Delphi thus far was the assurance she gave him that she found the rumors of him being Voldemort’s child to be utterly unbelievable, but the presence of the fabled time turner made Scorpius doubt himself. 

Delphi apparated them to Hogsmeade, and Scorpius had mustered up enough respect for Delphi at that point that he didn’t mind hanging back so that she could speak privately with Albus. Delphi showed a real interest in him and was supportive in all the ways that a good friend of Albus’s needed to be, and Albus seemed to love the attention. Scorpius wasn’t going to ruin that. He did wonder, once they were on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, if they wouldn’t mind terribly if he just ran off to Hogwarts to grab Rose quickly, but that suggestion was shot down as soon as he brought it up. Scorpius scowled and offered to go scout a safe route to the school while hoping that maybe Rose or James would find them out by the Forbidden Forest.

“Listen,” Scorpius interjected as he returned to where Delphi and Albus were either practicing or flirting. “Are we sure that this will work?”

“Yes!” said Delphi. 

“It’s a brilliant plan,” said Albus. “The secret to not getting Cedric killed is to stop him winning the Triwizard Tournament. If he doesn’t win, he can’t be killed.”

It was not a brilliant plan. He had no idea how they talked themselves into believing it was a brilliant plan. Scorpius nodded. “And I understand that, but…” 

“So we just need to mess up his chances supremely badly in task one. The first task is getting a golden egg from a dragon, how did Cedric distract the dragon —” Delphi raised her hand, and Albus grinned and pointed at her. Scorpius wanted to projectile vomit on both of them for the spite of it. He wasn't sure why it seemed so weird that Albus liked a girl. Of course Albus was going to like a girl eventually. It just seemed inherently strange for reasons Scorpius couldn't quite put his finger on. “Diggory.”

“By transfiguring a stone into a dog!”

“— well, a little Expelliarmus and he won’t be able to do that.”

The mean, horrible voice in Scorpius’s head wanted to point out that Albus’s dad saved the world with that spell and now Albus was going to use it for the worst plan in history, but Albus was going through a lot. Scorpius’s job for the day was to mitigate the risk and do damage control until he could get Albus securely away from Delphi and the time turner away from both of them. He put on his most winsome smile. “Okay! Two points! First point, we’re certain the dragon won’t kill him?”

“It’s always two points with him, isn’t it?” Delphi asked, and Scorpius was hurt to see Albus actually laugh at him with her. “Of course it won’t. This is Hogwarts. They won’t let damage happen to any of the champions.”

 _Multiple champions died in this tournament!_ Scorpius did not belabor the point. “Okay, second point _—_ more significant point _—_ we’re going back without any knowledge of whether we can travel back afterwards. Which is exciting. Maybe we should just — try going back an hour, say, first and then . . .”

Delphi, once again, brushed him off. “I’m sorry, Scorpius, we’ve no time to waste. Waiting here this close to the school is just too dangerous — I’m sure they’ll be looking for you and…“

“She’s right,” said Albus, who probably wasn’t even listening to the content of her speech, the bloody traitor. Scorpius couldn't even see how it was possible to waste time when one had the power to reset it at will.

Delphi rummaged in her bag to pull out two sets of barely recognizable red robes. “Now, you’re going to need to wear these.”

“But these are Durmstrang robes,” Albus said as he accepted his robes.

“My uncle’s idea. If you are in Hogwarts robes people will expect to know who you are. But there are two other schools competing at the Triwizard Tournament — and if you’re in Durmstrang robes — well, you can fade into the background, can’t you?”

Scorpius scowled and thought, _Yeah, except for the fact that Albus and I are the spitting image of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy._ Albus could probably get away with it without the scar, but the Malfoys and Lovegoods were known as the wizarding families with white blonde hair. It was not a subtle look, and Scorpius was no good at glamour charms.

“Good thinking!” said Albus, who had either lost all sense or never had any to begin with. “Hang on, where are your robes?”

“Albus, I’m flattered, but I don’t think I can pretend to be a student, do you? I’ll just keep in the background and pretend to be a — ooh, maybe I could pretend to be a dragon tamer. You’re doing all the spell stuff anyway.”

Scorpius chewed on his lip indecisively, worried more that he was about to anger Albus than afraid that he was wrong, then said, “You shouldn’t come.”

Delphi looked confused. “What?”

“You’re right. We don’t need you for the spell. And if you can’t wear student robes — you’re too big a risk. Sorry, Delphi, you shouldn’t come.”

Delphi looked very upset and immediately appealed to Albus. “But I have to — he’s my cousin. Albus?”

Albus gave Scorpius a thoughtful look then frowned at Delphi like it really tore him up to say this. “I think he’s right. I’m sorry.”

“What?” Delphi repeated frantically.

“We won’t mess up,” Albus promised her.

“But without me — you won’t be able to work the Time-Turner.”

“You taught us how to use the Time-Turner,” Scorpius pointed out.

“No!” cried Delphi. “I won’t let you do this!”

Albus touched her forearm comfortingly, and Scorpius stared down at the forest floor. “You told your uncle to trust us. Now it’s your turn. The school is close now. We should leave you here.”

Delphi took a deep breath and smiled encouragingly. “Then go. But — just know this . . . Today you get an opportunity few are given — today you get to change history — to change time itself. But more than all that, today you get the chance to give an old man his son back.”

It all sounded rather grand. She leaned down to kiss Albus on both cheeks before walking away into the woodland. Albus stared after her with a dazed look on his face, and Scorpius grimaced as he pulled on his Durmstrang robes. By the time he decided that he should make a joke about Albus’s lovestruck expression, the moment was gone. 

They walked towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest in uncomfortable, tense silence until they both heard Ron Weasley’s voice from a distance. Scorpius jumped in surprise, once again not clever enough to remember that he actually wanted to be found before they had the chance to make such a dire mistake. He was more focused on the fact that Rose’s parents were now going to think of him as a troublemaker and bad influence. Albus instinctively grabbed the time turner and looped it around Scorpius’s neck before spinning it as instructed.

*

The empty grounds were now full of students gathered in stands around a central pit from which Scorpius could hear a dragon already roaring, disturbed from its relaxation by the noise of the crowd. He had been against this plan from the very beginning but couldn’t deny that it felt absolutely incredible to be walking through actual history. The commentator had just announced Cedric Diggory, who was met by an explosion of applause from the crowd. Albus had to stand on his tiptoes to see over the heads in front of him and keep his eye on the pit, which gave Scorpius the ability to look around and marvel at the scene.

Hogwarts had the most supporters. They were the home team. Everyone was there. Scorpius was more intrigued by the alternating green and yellow buttons that almost every Hogwarts student seemed to be wearing on their chests. The commentator roared, “OOH, NARROW MISS THERE, VERY NARROW!” and Scorpius read, very slowly, “Support Cedric Diggory: The Real Hogwarts Champion.”

“HE’S TAKING RISKS, THIS ONE!” the commentator screamed, and Scorpius squinted closely to read, “Potter Stinks… Hey, Albus, are you seeing these badges?”

“Trying to pay attention, Scorpius,” Albus muttered.

“Albus,” Scorpius whispered. “Everyone is wearing pins about how much they hate your dad.”

“No, you’re - you’re misreading that,” Albus said breezily. “They’re very far away.”

“No, I think I’m reading them correctly,” said Scorpius. “I never heard of anti-Potter pins. What kind of tosser makes pins to taunt a fourteen-year-old who doesn’t want to be in the tournament at all?”

“CLEVER MOVE - PITY IT DIDN’T WORK!” 

“I think I see some Slytherins handing them out,” Scorpius murmured.

“Scorpius, please, let me focus,” Albus snapped.

“Yes, _Scorpius,”_ said a girl who reminded him uncomfortably of Rose. He realized a second later to whom he was really speaking. She wasn’t wearing a badge. “If you’re so interested in the pins, then why don’t you go find a Slytherin fourth year named Draco Malfoy? You look as if you’d get along. Otherwise, please be quiet. The rest of us are trying to pay attention to the tournament.”

Albus grinned at Scorpius and whispered, “Sounds like Draco Malfoy made the pins, mate.” In the same kind of accent Ezra would do whenever he said ‘very nice’ or ‘my wife’, Albus said, “Sorry, Hermione. We’ll pay attention.”

“Excuse me?” said Hermione. “And how do you know my name?”

“The Prophet,” answered Scorpius, in Ezra and Stuart’s Two Wild and Crazy Guys voice. “You were dating Harry Potter, no?”

“No, I was not,” Hermione snapped. “You should learn not to read such trash.”

She huffed and stormed away from them, and Albus muttered, “Thank Merlin,” and shot a disarming spell at Cedric.

Albus gasped and looked down before he could appreciate the success of his spell. Scorpius followed his gaze to see the time turner around his neck glowing, apparently so hot that a hole was being burnt into his shirt. Albus grabbed Scorpius’s arm and whispered, “Something is wrong with the time turner.”

Scorpius held on tightly as Albus wrapped the time turner around his neck again, hoping desperately that no one was watching them right now, and then he felt time lurch and shift around him.


	12. The Grimdark (September 2016)

Time lurched, tripped over itself, did a sexually suggestive dance, hopped around for a little bit, opened a trendy bakery, and slowed down to deposit Scorpius and Albus back in the present. He couldn’t put his finger on it right away but knew that something had changed. Something had gone terribly wrong, and it was Scorpius’s fault. It had been Scorpius’s job to mitigate the damage of Albus’s ridiculous plans! This time turner hadn’t worked like the ones Scorpius had read about, and he was stupid to think that it would! It was a completely different prototype! Scorpius was a disappointment to researchers and academics the world over. 

His panic and shame had to be put on pause because Albus started cursing with shocking fluency. Albus certainly never censored himself, but Scorpius hadn’t heard Albus speak like that before. He didn’t even know the meaning of half the words he was groaning. Albus probably didn’t either, for that matter. Albus had hit the ground hard when they landed in the present and was currently curled up in a ball with his back to Scorpius. 

Scorpius dropped down on his knees without a second thought and shook him frantically. “Albus? Albus? Al? What happened? Are you okay? What did we do? Why are you - Albus?”

The boy rolled over to look up at him. Scorpius gasped, and the boy seemed so surprised by the intensity of Scorpius’s reaction that he stopped spewing curses even though Scorpius was distantly aware that the boy’s arm was bent in a way that no arm should ever bend. “Albus?” the boy repeated doubtfully. “Alright there, Scorp?”

His voice sounded so much like Albus’s. He looked so much like Albus. Scorpius could imagine himself shaking Albus by his shoulders, pointing this boy out, and saying, _Hey, look, Albus, it’s Asian Albus, isn’t that crazy, huh, Albus? Do you see it? You see it right?_ and Albus would say, _He looks nothing like me, Scorpius, and he can hear you talking about him._

“You aren’t…” Scorpius trailed off, unsure of what he could possibly say to this stranger who looked and sounded so much like his best friend, who was there where his best friend was supposed to be.

Asian Albus maneuvered himself to his feet without putting any stress on his arm. “Well, I didn’t really think it would work anyway. At least we haven’t fucked up the present, huh?” He nudged Scorpius teasingly. “You were so sure we were going to fuck up the present, weren’t you?”

“How do you know it didn’t work?” Scorpius stuttered in a desperate bid for more time and more information.

Asian Albus arched an eyebrow. He gestured with his good arm at the shadowy castle in front of them. The architecture was identical, but Scorpius could practically feel the pain and despair spilling out across the grounds. The grounds were cold and misty when they had once been warm and sunny. “I really don’t think it would still look like this if Dumbledore were alive, Scorp.”

“Dumbledore? _Scorp?”_ No one in the whole world called him Scorp other than Marcus Flint. It was an awful nickname. His name, as Albus had mentioned multiple times before, did not easily lend itself to nicknames. Ezra had gotten the closest to success with Pope Pius XII.

Asian Albus smiled at him and started to lean towards him in an off-putting way before cringing and looking down at his mangled arm. “I fucked this up so fucking badly, Scorp. What the hell happened? Can you fix it for me? My dad’s going to gut me alive if I show up like this in the Hospital Wing.”

Scorpius boggled at him. “How am I supposed to do that?”

Asian Albus sighed deeply. “I have no idea. This is what we get for outsourcing all our work to the half-bloods, I guess. We always knew it would catch up with us one day.”

“Half-bloods,” Scorpius echoed.

“Okay, you’re in shock,” decided Asian Albus. “Fair enough. You need to get your shit together before we go back though, and we better hurry because it’s almost dementor o’clock.”

“Dementor o’clock?”

Asian Albus pretended to look around him. “Is there an echo out here?”

“There are dementors at Hogwarts?”

Asian Albus had seemed fairly light-hearted until this point but was now starting to look concerned. “Scorpius, I - I know what happened was really messed up, and I think I was wrong to act like we could just go back in time and fix everything. There will be plenty of time in the future to make things right. I do still think we should try to go to the Forest of Dean over the summer, but right now, I just want to make sure you’re okay. So you need to talk to me, or I can’t help you.”

“Wait, what - are you in touch with your emotions? Is this support? Is this supportive Albus?”

“Albus again?” Asian Albus asked teasingly. “Have you given me another alter ego? I kind of like it, but don’t let anyone overhear you.”

Scorpius wanted to ask what his name was. He was starting to feel weird thinking of this boy as ‘Asian Albus’ when they clearly were not the same person. He was not even entirely convinced that this boy was Harry Potter’s son, although all the physical clues did certainly point in that direction. Still, it would draw far too many questions to ask the person who appeared to be his closest friend what their name was. Scorpius had to figure out what had changed in order to bring the world to this point and change it back before anyone unsavory figured out what he was trying to do. If the possibility of dementors was any indication, then this was a fairly unsavory world.

He stared at Asian Albus blankly, wondering if he could trust him like he’d trusted the real Albus. He knew that if he met his Albus from another life and word-vomited his whole story all over him, Albus wouldn’t even hesitate before believing him and trying to help, even if he would most likely make things worse. Just the thought of Albus accepting Scorpius’s frantic and garbled explanations without any reason at all to believe him made Scorpius smile distantly. Then it made his heart break.

Asian Albus must have misread Scorpius’s expression because he smiled back and leaned in with undeniable purpose. Scorpius’s thoughts flitted around madly. Asian Albus seemed confident, which suggested that this was something that Asian Albus and the Scorpius who Scorpius was not had done before. However, Scorpius was not that Scorpius. He should explain to Asian Albus that he was not that Scorpius, because right now, it was becoming alarmingly possible that he was about to have his first kiss with Albus with his Asian doppelganger, and then he did have his first kiss with a fake Albus and continued having that first kiss with a fake Albus until it became his second and third and then he lost count and how was he possibly going to explain to his Albus that he had kissed a fake Albus for a lost count number of times? How do you explain that to your best mate? Scorpius made a terrified, semi-hysterical noise that, once again, fake Albus misread. He could feel the muscles in his face twist up into a smile. 

For a moment, he really liked it and was completely swept away by the new experience of kissing this boy who reminded him so much of his best friend, then (alternate) reality set in, and Scorpius was disgusted with himself. This boy had no idea who he was, and he missed Albus so much but was never going to see him again, and he had a girlfriend whom he was never going to see again, just like he would never see his mom again. He couldn’t help any of them, and now she was gone, and Albus had never existed, and Scorpius barely thought of Rose at all because Scorpius was here touching tongues with a fake Albus instead of trying to help the real Albus. 

Maybe it didn’t matter because he would surely fail anyway. Scorpius wasn’t fooling anyone. Fake Albus was slowing down, squeezing Scorpius’s side very tightly with his good hand. Scorpius hadn’t even cared that his arm was hurt, and maybe he’d hurt fake Albus because he wasn’t thinking about anyone other than himself. He was a horrible friend, horrible boyfriend, and horrible wizard. Then fake Albus whispered, “Dementors.”

“W-what?”

“We need to get inside,” fake Albus said hoarsely. He tugged at Scorpius. “Come on.”

“Are you serious?” Scorpius gasped as fake Albus dragged him towards the castle. 

“I’m always serious,” fake Albus said in a dull voice. “Come on. We need to run.”

Scorpius followed him without thinking. The grounds of Hogwarts had never felt bigger. The castle was so far away. He would never make it there. He wanted to stop moving, let the coldness transition to numbness. The desire to give up was so strong that he wasn’t even sure he was still moving. Then a very familiar and reassuring voice was shouting something, and there was a burst of light, and a silver doe charged at them from the castle. 

All of a sudden, everything felt lighter. Scorpius could breathe again. He looked over his shoulder to follow the path of the deer and swallowed thickly as he saw five dementors gliding over the grounds. He glanced back at fake Albus, who was frowning at the Patronus like it was an unwelcome addition, then he grabbed Scorpius’s hand and pulled him the rest of the way to the castle.

If Scorpius’s brain was a bit less foggy, he’d have thought, _I’m about to meet Severus Snape!_ He had heard the story of Snape’s Patronus. The only reason he knew that he would have thought this is because he felt a strange, bereft sort of disappointment as he saw who had really cast the Patronus.

“Sirius Jean Potter,” Harry Potter growled. He was so familiar yet felt so different from Professor Potter. Like the Malfoy time turner, Scorpius felt a strange air of malevolence around him. “Of all the stupid things! You two are the only students in this entire school who would hang out on the grounds after sundown. You can’t even cast a Patronus!”

“I was fine,” fake Albus - Sirius - spat. “I didn’t need _you_ to show up.”

Scorpius gaped up at him. Harry Potter had inspired equal parts love, adoration, and terror from Scorpius. He was always on edge in his presence even though Harry Potter made him feel safer than anyone else. He made Albus feel bad, and that upset Scorpius, but he had faith that one day Albus and his dad would work it out. He knew they loved each other. He was now absolutely certain that they loved each other because Harry and Sirius Potter did not. There was no warmth at all in their exchange. Harry was cold and dismissive, and Sirius was resentful and angry. It really put into perspective that Harry and Albus both desperately wanted the relationship to work as much as Albus was too stubborn and Harry too emotionally inarticulate to figure it out.

“You know, maybe if you would stop wasting so much time sneaking off with your boyfriend, you’d actually be able to cast a Patronus and defend yourself. You must have plenty of _happy memories.”_ Harry Potter was actually sneering at his son. Scorpius was so glad Albus wasn’t here to witness this exchange. It would prove all of his insecurities right that Harry Potter did actually have the capability to hate his son, which was unfair, because this person wasn’t really Harry Potter.

“I wouldn’t need to cast a Patronus if you could keep the dementors off the grounds! You said they’d be gone this year!”

“The dementors will leave when they catch the fugitives, and if you had followed the curfew, you’d have been fine - what happened to your arm?”

Harry reached out to grab Sirius’s broken arm. Sirius screamed and tried to writhe out of his grip. Any tough exterior that he had attempted to cultivate vanished as he begged, “Dad, it’s broken, don’t touch it, dad, please, it hurts!”

Scorpius watched the two of them in mute horror as Sirius attempted to fight Harry off. Angry, pained tears sprang up in Sirius’s eyes. Scorpius thought he would be sick. Harry let go and stepped back, looking down at him scornfully, and Scorpius followed his eyes to realize that the arm had been mended. Sirius used his newly-healed arm to make a rude hand gesture at Harry. Harry breathed in and out very slowly then said, “You should still go to the Hospital Wing.”

“I was planning on it,” Sirius muttered.

“Do I even want to know how you hurt it?”

“I was trying to go back in time to save Albus Dumbledore,” Sirius said boldly.

Harry snorted. He didn’t believe him. It was not an amused snort. “Very funny. I’ll - what is this?”

Sirius clutched the time turner that he had hidden under his shirt at some point. Harry sneered at him again and cast a summoning charm so strong that the chain was ripped off his neck, causing Sirius to wince as it cut into his skin. Harry caught the time turner and regarded it dispassionately. “You were serious.”

“I’m always—”

“Yes, you’re always serious. I understand.” Harry frowned down at the time turner. “This has to be, without a doubt, the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard.” He tossed the time turner into the air and said, _“Reducto.”_

The time turner exploded. Scorpius screamed, “No!” and received a strange look from Sirius as he registered the clear desperation in Scorpius’s voice.

“The amount that two wizards of your ineptitude could have messed up the present is unfathomable,” Harry spat. “If you so much as touch an object as powerful as a time turner again, I will have both of your wands snapped.”

“I apologize,” Sirius said in the most sarcastic voice imaginable. “I forgot how much you enjoyed your reality.”

It was the coldest exchange between a father and son that Scorpius had ever seen. Sirius avoided all eye contact, and Harry didn’t even look at Scorpius for the entire walk to the Hospital Wing. Scorpius fully expected to be allowed to slink off by himself or maybe sit with Sirius, who was much less terrifying than all the other options, but the moment that Sirius had the attention of a Healer that Scorpius didn’t recognize, Harry said, “Malfoy.”

Scorpius looked around for his dad then realized Harry was addressing him. “Yes?”

“Can you explain to me why Sirius has no regard for rules that are in place for his own safety?”

“Is that rhetorical?” Scorpius asked weakly. “I think that - I think that he thinks there shouldn’t be dementors at Hogwarts at all? And maybe if you wanted him to follow rules, you should have named him after someone else?” _Like James or Albus. Would it be weirder if Sirius had Albus’s name when he isn’t actually Albus? I miss Sirius. I miss normal Harry. I really miss Albus._

Harry seemed taken aback. Scorpius pressed, “Why are there dementors at Hogwarts?”

“There are - they’re here to catch some crim - fugit - _rebels._ They’re here to catch some rebels that have been bothering the school.”

“Who?”

Scorpius felt like he had Harry Potter’s full and undivided attention for the first time in his entire life. Harry was staring down at him warily, and Scorpius saw him erect a wordless silencing charm around them with a flick of his wand. Scorpius did not have a clear image in his mind of Harry Potter’s wand, but this wand just felt different. Like the time turner and Harry Potter himself, it radiated a powerful, dark energy that made Scorpius uncomfortable. “Why are you asking these questions?”

“How could anyone possibly be on Hogwarts grounds without you knowing?” Scorpius asked, wondering if the Marauder’s Map was common knowledge in this reality. 

Harry’s expression suggested that it was not a widely-known fact as it was in Scorpius’s timeline. He glanced around the hall warily then asked, “Shall we speak in my office?”

Scorpius did not particularly want to be alone with this Harry but, in spite of the danger and coldness, did not actually feel afraid of him. He was Harry Potter. How different could he be? Scorpius could believe that even (or, possibly, especially) his own father could go dark but with his dying breath he would proclaim that Harry Potter’s inherent goodness could not be destroyed. 

He nodded and followed Harry down the halls, but Harry did not lead Scorpius to the Defense Against the Dark Arts office. He led him to the Headmaster’s office.

Any security he felt in Harry’s presence vanished the moment Harry opened the office. The gargoyles that Scorpius remembered had been replaced by a stone serpent, and it slithered around and unlocked the door when Harry hissed at it.

Scorpius gasped. “You can speak Parseltongue.”

“Insightful as ever, Malfoy,” Harry mocked. He paused and looked a little upset at himself before striding into the office. 

“You’re a Parselmouth,” Scorpius reiterated. His skin broke out in goosebumps. His vision seemed to be closing into one pinpoint of light. He thought he was going to be sick. There was only one clear thought in his mind: _You’re still a Horcrux._

The office looked similar to McGonagall’s in many ways. Unlike in McGonagall’s, three portraits had been destroyed so thoroughly that nothing could visit the frames. Many other portraits were voluntarily empty. The Marauder’s Map was sitting out on the desk, which Scorpius thought was rather risky. Harry clearly thought Parseltongue was a safe password, but he must have never heard Ron Weasley and Scorpius’s dad pretending to hold Parseltongue conversations. “I am, yes,” Harry said, sitting down on the Headmaster’s side of the desk. “Or was that rhetorical?”

Scorpius’s eyes were drawn, as if magnetically, to the case above Harry’s desk holding a gleaming silver sword with a ruby-encrusted hilt. His jaw dropped, and he whispered, without thinking, “The sword of Gryffindor.”

Harry’s eyes darkened. “Is that a question?”

“Why do you have the sword of Gryffindor?”

“It presented itself to me,” Harry said coldly. “I’m concerned about Sirius, Scorpius.”

“Me too,” agreed Scorpius, who didn’t really know Sirius at all but was open to the idea that he might be in love with him. “I’m concerned about you too, Mr. Harry Potter.”

Harry sat down and regarded Scorpius with visible discomfort. “I apologize for not reaching out when I should have, Scorpius.” For a moment, he looked very tired and so much older than in Scorpius’s reality. “You deserved more.”

Scorpius feared that asking what exactly he was talking about would be too telling a question. The smartest solution was to stay silent. He looked around for a chair on the opposite side of the desk, and Harry summoned it wordlessly from the corner. All the furniture besides Harry’s desk and chair were up against the walls. A good portion of the room, Scorpius realized, had been cleared for some reason.

This time, Scorpius got a better look at Harry’s malevolent wand. It was darker than Harry’s holly wand, with a smooth shaft and handle formed from conjoined spheres. Scorpius stared at it for a moment as his mind once again buzzed with alarm. “That’s the Elder Wand.”

Harry glanced down at the wand then narrowed his eyes. “Time turners, the map, the Elder Wand. Frankly, I’m impressed with your newfound ability to conduct research. What have you and Sirius been getting up to?”

Scorpius breathed in and out very slowly. “Why are you using that?”

Harry faltered. “Scorpius, I - I’m not sure what you think you know, but I needed the wand. Why are you asking about this?”

“You apologized to me earlier,” said Scorpius. “What were you apologizing for?”

Harry’s brow knit. He thought over his response very carefully. The Harry that Scorpius knew would have been able to respond on instinct. “I was an orphan too, Scorpius. It’s - you shouldn’t underestimate how lucky you are to have your grandfather.”

“Titus Greengrass is still alive?”

Harry snorted wryly then steadied his expression again. “That was - that’s funny, Scorpius. Don’t let him hear you make that joke.”

Lucius Malfoy, then.

Scorpius clenched the arms of his chair very tightly. “Did you get possession of that wand during the escape from Malfoy Manor?”

Harry’s lips flattened into a disapproving line. “I hope you appreciate the fact that I am letting you ask these incredibly inappropriate, prying questions.”

“And you’re not doing it out of respect for Sirius,” Scorpius said sharply. “Maybe my late father, then? How’d you get the wand from him, Professor Potter? Malfoy Manor, right? You got it in Malfoy Manor?”

Harry breathed in and out very slowly. “Whatever you think you know, Scorpius, you’re not as smart as you think you are. There is much more to all of this than you understand.”

Scorpius understood enough to know, deep in his bones, that he was sitting in the same room as the man who had killed his father and, according to Sirius, Severus Snape. Scorpius wanted to believe that this was some horrible dark wizard Polyjuiced as Harry Potter because the evil in the room was suffocating. If Delphi gave him the creeps, then Dark Harry made his skin crawl.

“I’m sure there is,” agreed Scorpius. He no longer saw much to be gained from speaking to this man and very much to be lost. “I appreciate your apology and will just be getting back to the dorms now. I’ll keep an eye on Sirius.”

“So reassuring,” said Harry. “Do you mean your rooms?”

“Oh,” said Scorpius. “Yes, my room. Because I… do not live in the dorm?”

Harry’s lip curled. “Goodbye, Scorpius.”

“Goodbye, Professor Potter,” said Scorpius quickly. He knocked over the chair as he hurried out of the room, and Harry had uprighted it with a flick of the Elder Wand before he’d even left.

Scorpius had no idea where he lived. That was a problem. He could go to the library, but Sirius had mentioned that they didn’t ever do their homework. Scorpius had already been so inappropriate with Harry Potter that he wanted to be very careful with his identity. At a loss for how to get help, he walked back to the Hospital Wing and prayed for Sirius to be there.

As he walked, he made a mental list of things he knew about this world:

First, Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape, and Draco Malfoy were dead. 

Second, Lucius Malfoy was still alive. 

Third, Harry Potter had at least one child with someone other than Ginny Weasley. Scorpius would be willing to put down money on Cho Chang, which he had even told Albus would happen if they saved Cedric Diggory. Scorpius did not yet know if Cedric Diggory was still alive.

Fourth, Harry Potter was still a Parselmouth, which meant he had either learned it or still had a connection with Voldemort.

Fifth, Harry Potter was Master of the Elder Wand. If he had never died to kill the horcrux inside him, he still had the Resurrection Stone, meaning Harry Potter was likely the Master of Death. He was also the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

Sixth, there were dementors on the grounds to catch fugitives who were, for whatever reason, not showing up on the Marauder’s Map. Scorpius made the tentative hypothesis that they were in the Shrieking Shack although was open to the idea of a new hidden area or perhaps the Room of Requirement.

Seventh, Harry Potter had destroyed three portraits in his office. Two must have been Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape, but Scorpius could not yet guess the third.

Eighth, Harry Potter’s Patronus was a doe. The child who was likely to have been named James was instead named Sirius. Had something happened in relation to his father? The doe could mean Lily Potter I or Severus Snape. As Harry had likely killed Severus Snape, he would have had a profound influence over Harry, but Patronuses reflected a wizard’s spirit and love. Not their formative mistakes.

Ninth, Sirius Potter’s middle name was Jean. Scorpius had seen enough monogrammed pillows and assorted linens in Rose’s house to know that this was the middle name of Hermione Granger. Lily Luna had the middle name of a living person, but otherwise, the Potters had named their children exclusively after the dead.

Tenth, Scorpius hated it here. He was terrified and could see no clear way of getting home after Harry had destroyed the time turner. 

Oh! Also, Scorpius definitely also fancied boys. He fancied girls and really fancied Rose, but there was not a doubt in his mind that he fancied boys too. Like his father’s revelation, it seemed so obvious now that he almost couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized it before. A lot of things made much more sense now. Although he felt bad that he was not who Sirius thought he was and because he had an alternate reality girlfriend, he was very much looking forward to needing to kiss Sirius Potter to keep up appearances. 

The realization wouldn’t help him figure out what had gone wrong in this reality, but it was interesting to keep in mind. He would unpack it later.

Scorpius had one stroke of luck that day. Sirius Jean Potter was exiting the Hospital Wing right as Scorpius reached it. Sirius looked deeply relieved and kissed Scorpius quickly before groaning and dragging him quickly down the halls towards some unknown destination, presumably one of their private bedrooms.

“How’s your arm?” Scorpius gasped, a bit worried that Sirius was about to hurt his arm.

“It’s fine,” Sirius muttered. “It was fine before I got there. The great Harry Potter fixed it, didn’t he?”

“He’s a very powerful wizard,” Scorpius said tentatively. He watched Sirius closely for any signs that he knew about the Elder Wand. 

Sirius simply frowned and gripped Scorpius’s arm tighter. “He just wants me to see how great he is. That’s why he made a rare appearance to save us from the dementors, just to rub it in.”

“Okay, but consider this: There were dementors, and he saved us.”

“Are you on his side?”

“I’m not on the dementors’ side.”

“We would have been fine,” Sirius said firmly. He led them down some stairs.

Three wizards were talking quietly on the stairwell. They all fell silent the moment they saw Sirius and Scorpius, all three of them sporting similar looks of pure loathing. Scorpius stopped in his tracks as he recognized two of them. Fitzgerald Wood was wearing the same dark robes as Sirius and Scorpius and had a nasty cut on one cheek and bruise over his eye. A Gryffindor from James’s year named Art Jordan looked similarly banged up. The third member of the group Scorpius didn’t recognize by face. He did recognize their hair shifting from bright blue to black the moment they saw the two of them. Teddy Lupin would no longer be a student at Hogwarts, but Scorpius found it unlikely that Hogwarts would have an unrelated Metamorphmagus.

“Fitz,” said Scorpius blankly.

Fitz cringed then looked furious at himself and glared at Scorpius bravely.

Sirius stopped walking and had his wand out in a second. Art and the Metamorphmagus had their wands out a moment later. “Did he bother you?”

“No,” said Scorpius quickly. “No, I was just… surprised to see him.”

“How dare you point your wands at us?” Sirius snarled. 

“Oh, were we supposed to let you threaten us with no response?” the Metamorphmagus spat.

“James, it’s fine,” muttered Fitz. 

“James Lupin,” declared Scorpius. He regretted it immediately because both Sirius and James gave him such surprised looks that Scorpius forced himself to scowl just to keep up his appearance of being someone threatening. 

Sirius smiled at him. “So what were you three talking about all alone here on the stairs?”

“How much we worship the ground you stand on, Potter,” said Art. “What else is there to talk about?”

“They’re fine,” Scorpius murmured. “I was just - I feel lenient today. Get out of my face before I hex you.”

“I’d like to see you try, Scorpion King,” Art muttered even though the three of them jogged up the stairs in the opposite direction of Sirius and Scorpius without any real argument. 

Scorpion King?

Albus had been so right when he said that Scorpius’s name did not lend itself to nicknames.

Sirius frowned at Scorpius. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yes! I think that our plan failing just threw me off.”

“Fair,” acquiesced Sirius. “Don’t let that blood traitor scum know what we tried to do, okay? I have a reputation to keep up.”

Scorpius perked up. He’d forgotten that, no matter what he had done to scare three formidable Gryffindor-types, he had first turned up in this world after a mission to save Albus Dumbledore. Alternate Scorpius couldn’t be that bad. “I promise.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and muttered, “So fucking weird,” before continuing on the path to their rooms.

Their rooms turned out to be _their_ rooms. As in, there was only one bedroom for the two of them, with an adjoining living room area and bathroom. There was only one bed in the bedroom. Scorpius stood for a moment and beheld the bed in all of its age-inappropriate glory. True, he did fall asleep in Albus’s bed on occasion, and yes, he was dating this person. The occasional sleepover made sense. Sharing a living quarters and bed was simply overwhelming. What had they done? Would Scorpius have to do that? He could list at least five ways in which any physical intimacy would be inappropriate.

Sirius shrugged off his robes the moment he got inside and dropped like a sack of potatoes into a comfortable-looking armchair. He raised an eyebrow, and Scorpius mimicked the action. Sirius regarded him thoughtfully, and Scorpius felt so exposed that Sirius might as well have been doing Legilimency. 

Apparently satisfied, Sirius said, “I can’t believe he’d destroy a time turner just like that.”

“We can find another,” said Scorpius, fishing blatantly for information on where any other time turners might be kept in this reality.

Sirius smiled. “I’m sure.” He stood up, walked over to Scorpius, and extended a hand to pull him up. Scorpius, who rather appreciated the distance, gave his hand reluctantly and allowed Sirius to lead him towards their shared bed.

Sirius kissed him again as they stood over the bed, and once again, Scorpius’s sense of reason went fuzzy. He kissed back shyly as if he didn’t have seven months of experience with Rose; theoretically, there was no real difference between the two partners, but it felt very different. Scorpius was in out of his league. Sirius pushed him down onto the mattress and climbed on top of him, and Scorpius rested one hand over Sirius’s heart and the opposite fingers on his jaw as he responded eagerly.

He felt Sirius’s facial muscles tense into a smile, and Sirius whispered, “You’re being so sweet today.”

“Yes,” Scorpius whispered back. It was, no matter what anyone else said, a very reasonable response to Sirius’s statement.

Sirius pulled back to kiss down Scorpius’s jaw and neck. Scorpius moaned quietly, and Sirius sucked hard on that spot. When he pulled back, he whispered, “the Dark Lord is coming to dinner on Thursday.”

“Is he really?” Scorpius asked vaguely. He lost all track of the conversation the moment Sirius broke the blood vessels on his neck.

Sirius froze. Scorpius had done something wrong. “No, of course not.”

“Of course not!” Scorpius repeated quickly but was answered with a wand pointed in his face.

“Who are you?” Sirius demanded.

“Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy,” Scorpius whispered. 

Sirius jammed the wand into his throat. “I can just keep you here until the Polyjuice wears off.”

“No, I am Scorpius!” Scorpius begged.

Sirius shouted an incantation that Scorpius didn’t recognize, and his hands flew up and legs stretched and parted to stick to the headboard. The inappropriate and unnecessary part of his brain really wondered why Sirius and other Scorpius knew that spell. “What did you do to him?”

“Nothing, I swear,” Scorpius said hoarsely. “I’d offer to answer a question, but I’m from a completely different timeline, so I’m not sure I could actually do that.”

“Different timeline?” Sirius repeated. His wand pressed slightly less firmly into Scorpius’s throat. 

“Yes!” cried Scorpius. “I am from a different timeline where - well, I haven’t figured out what changed, but my best friend and I tried to go back in time to save Cedric Diggory, and now I’m here.”

Sirius knelt back. “Cedric Diggory? Why?”

“I think Albus fancied his cousin,” Scorpius admitted. “Is he - did we succeed?”

“Albus Dumbledore?”

“No, Albus Severus Potter,” Scorpius whispered. “Son of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley.”

Sirius boggled at him. The fact that they had time traveled for a similar purpose seemed to help convince him, and now he was getting shaky and nervous. “So my dad didn’t?”

“Have you? No. He had three kids - James, Albus, and Lily.”

“I meant kill Snape,” said Sirius. “That was where it all - that’s what we wanted to fix, Scorpius and I. I didn’t realize that he - Ginny Weasley?”

“Yes. He loves her.”

Sirius nodded. “He doesn’t love my mother.”

“Who is… Cho Chang?” Scorpius guessed.

“Yes.”

“And Cedric? Is he alive?”

Sirius shook his head. “No, he died in the graveyard.”

Scorpius sighed. He was going to undo whatever damage he had done whether or not Cedric was alive, but it stung to realize that, after all this damage, they still hadn’t been successful. “You believe me?”

Sirius sank back on his heels. “Well, I’m going to hold you here for a few hours until any Polyjuice or glamour would have worn off, but… you seem like a Scorpius, but not my Scorpius, and we were messing around with time turners too, so… yes, I believe you.”

Scorpius felt more hopeful than he had since he arrived. “I need to figure out what changed so that I can set it back. Albus doesn’t exist. Rose doesn’t exist. Harry Potter is horrible.”

“Hm,” said Sirius. “And if you restore your timeline, what happens to mine?”

“Your timeline?” Scorpius asked, heart sinking. “Nothing more impactful than saving Dumbledore would have been.”

“So I won’t exist,” reasoned Sirius.

“You won’t,” Scorpius said hesitantly.

“And will my reality continue in parallel? With the real Scorpius?”

“Maybe? I - how could I know that answer?”

Sirius considered this. “So I’m hearing that my Scorpius is gone for good, because you’re here now, but if you set the timeline ‘right’, then I will be gone for good too and replaced with someone named Albus Severus Potter? Stupid name, by the way.”

“No! I think you’d exist in parallel, and you’d have your Scorpius back.”

“You’re lying,” said Sirius. He pressed a quick kiss against Scorpius’s lips that was less enchanting than the other kisses. “I think I’m going to keep things in a world where I exist. You might not be the real Scorpius, but you’ll do.”

He pulled back and reached into Scorpius’s pocket. Scorpius tried to buck and shake him off, but Sirius emerged with Scorpius’s wand a moment later. He hopped off the bed and said, “I’ll be back in a few hours to see if you’ve been Polyjuiced.

“Sirius!” Scorpius shouted as he left the room and shut the doors behind him. “Sirius, you know it’s me!”

Sirius did not answer. Scorpius stared up at the canopy as his thoughts flew around wildly in an attempt to piece together some reasonable explanation. The only thing he knew for sure is that Sirius Jean Potter did not intend to be his ally in setting time right.

*

Several hours later, Sirius waltzed back into the bedroom. Scorpius had gone several types of insane in the intervening hours, but even he could see that Sirius looked much more relaxed than he had before, which meant that despite his detached attitude, he had been genuinely stressed to think that his Scorpius had been replaced with an imposter.

He sat down next to Scorpius on the mattress. He was breathing very slowly, and Scorpius caught his lips twisting down as he took in Scorpius’s appearance. “So it wasn’t Polyjuice.”

“Nope! It wasn’t. So I think you can just let me go, because I’m Scorpius Malfoy.”

Sirius jumped up suddenly and swung a leg over Scorpius’s hips to straddle him, restricting yet another plane of motion. “I was thinking, Scorpius,” he said slowly. “The reason you showed such an interest in Art and James - in your universe, they’re your friends, aren’t they?”

“Um, no,” said Scorpius. “James doesn’t exist. I don’t know Art, but he’s a friend of Albus’s brother. Fitz is a friend of my girlfriend.”

Sirius let out a shrill laugh. “You have a girlfriend!”

“I - yes. I do!”

“I never took you for someone who would be in the closet.”

“I’m not!” Scorpius said defensively. “I like both. I’m bisexual!” The word felt foreign coming out of his mouth, but it was right. The only thing that felt weird was attaching a label to something so fluid. He liked everything about Rose, and his body was very attracted to her body. He was also very curious about Albus’s body and had, if he was going to admit something that made his revelation so embarrassingly obvious that he should have accepted his bisexuality a year ago, spent many nights during their third year lying in his bed and vividly imagining what Albus was doing in the bed next to him. He found both Polly Chapman and Zephaniel Smith, the widely-accepted most attractive girl and boy in the year, to be entirely overrated. The Moore sisters terrified him, but Professor Spinnet was a knockout. Sometimes his heart beat really fast when Ezra smiled at him in a certain way. Scorpius was bisexual. He really should have gotten this sooner.

Sirius sneered at him. “So you’re just not ready to admit your homosexuality yet in your universe?”

“No! I like both!”

“Sure,” said Sirius. He leaned forward and ran his hands up the length of his arms to where his hands were glued against the headboard. Scorpius pushed his hips upwards, and Sirius smiled and repeated, “Sure.”

“Aren’t you going to let me out now that I’ve proven that I’m Scorpius?”

“First of all,” said Sirius, “you haven’t proven shit. The only thing I know is that you aren’t my Scorpius. I personally would like to stay in this reality with my Scorpius but am fairly confident that the moment I give you free rein, you’ll run off to Art and James to see if you can offer any help with their rebellion.”

“Art and James are rebels?”

Sirius gave him a dismissive look. “Yes, obviously.”

“Then why are they - how could you continue on? If you know I’m not really the Scorpius that you fell for?”

“‘Fell for’,” Sirius repeated. “You’re absurd. That Scorpius is gone. You’re here. You are him in your own way. I find you fit. You seem much, much easier to influence, and if I'm being honest, submissive Scorpius is working for me.”

“What is the other Scorpius like?” Scorpius asked.

He immediately regretted it when Sirius’s hand slid up his chest to wrap around his neck and choke him. Scorpius, once again, tried to shift his hips up to relieve the pressure from his neck, and Sirius ground down against him hard. He continued to grind his hips against Scorpius’s while Scorpius flushed and felt his body react on its own accord. When Scorpius was sure he was going to pass out, Sirius retracted his hand and slapped him in the face with his other hand before sticking two fingers into his mouth. Scorpius’s eyes widened, and Sirius said, in a falsely cheerful tone, “You’re a bit more like that.”

Scorpius bit down on his fingers angrily, and Sirius slid his fingers deeper to irritate his gag reflex. Scorpius choked, and Sirius continued to fuck his face while Scorpius gagged and convulsed until Scorpius bit so hard that Sirius finally hissed and withdrew his fingers.

After a minute in which they both collected their senses, Scorpius said, “Okay, so your Scorpius is terrible.”

Sirius stroked his cheek, and Scorpius cringed away from his touch. “Actually I quite like both of you.”

Scorpius screwed up his face in discomfort. “I take that to mean you don’t really like either of us.”

Sirius smiled. “In a way. You serve all the same purposes as he does.”

“Which are?”

“We bolster each other’s reputations. I have faith we can make you intimidating. You’ve got a little darkness in you that I think you’ve never really had a chance to let loose, have you? You might enjoy it. He made me look better than I really am. You make my dad furious.”

Scorpius narrowed his eyes. “You like me because your dad disapproves?”

“Oh, it was your main allure,” said Sirius, sitting back again. “You were my first real act of rebellion. I’ll let you in on a secret that your little Albus Severus Potter might not have shared: He probably likes you for the exact same reason.”

“You’re lying. You don’t even know him.”

“That’s right. I don’t.” Sirius hopped off him, to Scorpius’s immense relief and strange sense of loss. “Because I’m not Albus Potter, am I? But you, Scorpius - you’re the same guy. And there’s not much more to see in you than that.”

Sirius made to leave again without releasing him. Scorpius, in an act of complete desperation, shouted. “I think you’re lying!”

Sirius froze and turned around with a nasty smile. “I assure you that I’m not.”

“Not about Albus. You don’t know him or me. I think you’re lying about not really caring about Scorpius. I think you’re lonely without him and terrified because you know you’re never going to get him back, so you’re taking it out on me because you don’t want anyone to realize how much you really needed him.”

Sirius snarled at him, clearly enraged. He took a step forward then thought better of it and released Scorpius with a nonverbal spell before throwing the doors open. He paused in the doorway, back to Scorpius, and whispered, “Don’t even think about leaving this room until I’ve figured out what I’m going to do about you.”

Then Scorpius was left alone in a strange room with a boy who put him more on edge than anyone he had ever met guarding him outside. 

Scorpius took a deep breath as he sat up and rubbed his wrists, which felt oddly chafed considering the binds were not actually tangible. The pressure on his skin had been real. He massaged them absent-mindedly as he added to his list of knowledge of this timeline:

Eleventh, Harry Potter was, as theorized, married to Cho Chang. Their family was awful, and Scorpius hated all of them.

Twelfth, Fitzgerald Wood, Art Jordan, and a descendent of Remus Lupin named after Harry Potter’s father all existed in this timeline. That meant that Oliver Wood, Lee Jordan, and Remus Lupin all existed somewhere or had died within the past seventeen years. If Remus Lupin was alive, then the Battle of Hogwarts must not have occurred at all. Furthermore, all their children hated Scorpius and Sirius. Sirius acknowledged them to be rebels, but Harry Potter had not cracked down on them. That boded well. That was the first and only thing about this timeline that boded well.

Thirteenth, Voldemort was alive, probably. This should have been on Scorpius’s first list, as of course Voldemort was alive if a horcrux still lived in Harry. Technically, he could have been living in a state of dormancy as he had after failing to kill Harry as a baby, but Sirius’s comment about him coming to dinner, although it had been a test to see if he was the real Scorpius Malfoy, had suggested that Voldemort was alive and well somewhere in the world. 

Fourteenth, Cedric Diggory had died anyway.

Fifteenth, Sirius was apparently as stupid as Albus if he thought he could do something as impactful as saving Albus Dumbledore or Severus Snape (who Harry Potter was now confirmed to have killed) without being prepared to possibly wipe him or the other Scorpius Malfoy from existence.

Although it did not relate to getting home and couldn’t actually be included on Scorpius’s running list, he had also discovered that he had very mixed feelings about being rough in bed. Again, something to unpack at a later date. Except unfortunately he was trapped in a room by himself, and his thoughts kept drifting back in that direction. Sirius Potter was cold and intimidating, and every part of Scorpius other than his body was glad that he was no longer in the room. It did leave a little too much time to fight against the image of Albus sucking on his fingers. 

Everything was weird, and Scorpius just wanted to go home where things had made sense.

*

Sirius didn’t speak to Scorpius at all for most of the weekend. He slept on a couch in the other room, a sign that Scorpius took to mean that he was also in retrospect uncomfortable with what had transpired. Scorpius himself had spent at least a quarter of his fix-the-universe planning session debating whether or not he had enjoyed what happened and what it meant if he had. In the end, all he could know for sure was that it was inappropriate and should not happen again.

There were no books in their room, not even a textbook, and Scorpius was going stir crazy by the time that classes resumed on Monday. Food had appeared in his room, and he hadn’t had any change of scenery other than the en suite bathroom. Left alone with nothing but his thoughts and the occasional sound of Sirius Potter through the door, his mind turned on itself. He tore the room apart looking for new information. He spent hours staring out the window, watching students chatting in groups of three or less. Everyone was wearing the same all-black uniform that Scorpius had noticed on his first day, which Scorpius took to mean that the house system had been disbanded entirely. 

Sirius, although he didn’t keep any books by his bed, worked very hard. He practiced his spellwork almost nonstop and could, by the sound of it, do magic years beyond his experience level. He acted like he had a great deal to prove to himself and others. Perhaps he had started off like Albus, unbelievably powerful but unable to display his magic in a way that anyone could understand. While Albus had moped and given up, Sirius had dedicated his life to being as good if not better than his famous father. 

On Sunday evening, Scorpius finally tested the door. It was unlocked. Maybe Sirius had been hoping he would venture out of the room because he didn’t look angry at all. He had a manic glint in his eye, almost shaking with magical energy. Several items fell to the floor the moment Scorpius stole his attention.

“Cast an _Incendio,”_ Sirius ordered.

Scorpius looked at him warily. “You took my wand.”

 _“Accio_ Scorpius’s wand,” Sirius said. The wand flew out of the couch cushions and into his hand. Sirius held it out to him. “I suppose magic seems to think you’re Scorpius.”

Scorpius accepted the wand. “I am Scorpius. We’ve covered this.”

“Excuse me for hoping that I’m not actually stuck here with a nervous pygmy puff of a person. Go on. Cast it.”

“Pygmy puff?” Scorpius repeated, offended.

Sirius motioned for him to move on.

Scorpius frowned and said, _“Incendio.”_

Fire shot out of his wand. Sirius held out his own wand until the flame reached the tip then flicked his wand rapidly to the side. The fire followed the path of the wand for a moment then vanished. Sirius tried not to look too disappointed.

“Are you trying to do a fire whip?” Scorpius asked, interested in spite of his better instincts.

“No,” said Sirius curtly.

“Just vanishing the fire is incredibly impressive,” Scorpius told him.

“Thank you for your encouragement,” Sirius snapped. “But I wasn’t trying to do a fire rope, so it’s meaningless to me.”

“I - okay, you clearly were,” said Scorpius. This kid was even moodier and more difficult to talk to than Albus in one of his mopiest strops. “I don’t really care. We have classes tomorrow, and you have yet to give me any information at all about this world or myself.”

“You’ll be fine. Act mean and aloof. No one will question you.”

“Okay, but what’s my motivation?”

“Hm?”

“For my character. What’s my motivation? Why am I so aloof and mean?”

Sirius almost laughed. “Well, your dad died a few weeks ago. I think that’s gotten you into a bit of a mood. Makes it easier, though. Everyone will forgive you for acting weirdly.”

“And how did my dad die exactly?”

Sirius sounded very honest when he said, “I actually don’t know. But your grandfather is your guardian now.”

“Lucius Malfoy,” clarified Scorpius.

“Lucius Malfoy.”

“And how did we get the time turner?” Scorpius asked hopefully.

Sirius frowned at him and returned to his nonverbal spellwork without another word to Scorpius.

*

The first chance Scorpius had to get away from Sirius was in their third class of the day. They had already had Defense Against the Dark Arts, which would be more accurately called Dark Arts, and History of Magic, which offered a rather biased history of Grindelwald’s attempts to dominate muggles. At the beginning of Charms, a pretty Asian girl approached Sirius and gave him the kind of scowl that one could only share with a sibling.

“Sirius Potter, I cannot believe you would use a time turner. Have you any idea the damage you could have done?”

“Fuck off, Reina,” Sirius snapped. “I didn’t do any damage, did I?”

She looked astounded. “But you could have. Easily!”

Scorpius took the opportunity to slip away from Sirius. Sirius frowned and tried to follow him, but Reina blocked him with a hand to his chest. Sirius watched helplessly as Scorpius slid into a seat next to Fitz Wood. Yann Fredericks, apparently still extant and still awful, was easily scared away with a single glare.

Fitz sneered at him. “What do you want, Malfoy?”

“Fitz,” Scorpius said very softly. “I know this is probably a lot to ask, but I need you to trust me: Who are the fugitives that the dementors are here for, and how can I find them?”

Fitz boggled at him, too surprised to be angry. “Malfoy, if any one of you blood supremacist pricks was going to go undercover, you would be the worst choice imaginable. Bugger off, will you?”

“Look, I can’t explain this to you very easily, but I really, really need to figure out whatever the resistance movement is.”

Fitz smiled at him meanly. “Honestly, I’d love it if you joined the resistance just to see your horrible grandfather hit you with a killing curse. Unfortunately, I don’t trust you one bit. The only thing more important to me than seeing you die is keeping my friends alive. So I’ll just go find another seat then, shall I?”

Scorpius couldn’t even think of a response. It was the harshest thing anyone had ever said to him. Surely no version of himself could be so terrible that people were rooting for him to die? Scorpius had no idea who he really was anymore.

*

His second opportunity to get away from Sirius wasn’t for a few days. Sirius, although annoyed that Scorpius had approached Fitz, had warmed up to the new Scorpius. They had talked a bit about some inconsequential topics, and Sirius had actually slept in the bed for the past two nights, during which time Scorpius had done some things with him that he swore to never again admit to himself or anyone else. It was almost fortunate that he had no more information to go off of because he could hardly think of anything else. It would be embarrassing how hung up on Sirius Potter he was if he was actually wasting valuable time in which he could have achieved something.

Scorpius, let it be known, would not have allowed the relationship to progress so far if Sirius really had been as horrible and detached as he had seemed. On Scorpius’s fifth night in this world, he had walked into the living room to find Sirius crying. Sirius tried to deny it, but the proof was all over his face. Scorpius had sat down with him, and Sirius had admitted how lonely he was. They’d shared a very lovely conversation about what Sirius loved about the other Scorpius and what Scorpius loved about Albus, and then they had kissed and explored each other for the rest of the night. Sirius had been tentative and affectionate, completely unlike the way he’d been on Scorpius’s first night when he had allegedly imitated the other Scorpius.

In the morning, the tiniest bit of Scorpius was less interested in resetting the world, which made Scorpius absolutely hate himself. What were his priorities? He could stick his hand down his girlfriend’s pants back in the real world. Scorpius was the worst. This whole world was designed to make himself see what an awful person he was.

On Friday, Sirius was called up to work on a spell directly with the Transfiguration professor. Other than Reina, who showed up every two or three days to harass Sirius and make him feel generally inadequate, a professor was probably the best distraction that Scorpius could ask for. He slipped out of the classroom and, after a mere second of internal debate, tore off in the direction of the Room of Requirement.

The Room of Requirement, which Scorpius was aware of but had never been to in his world, was one of his top bets for where fugitives could hide around Hogwarts. Dumbledore’s Army had hidden there while the Carrows had taken over Hogwarts, hadn’t they? The protection on the room was likely to be intense, and Scorpius wasn’t sure exactly how to ask it for anything, but the room was clever and Scorpius had good intentions. It was the best solution he could come up with.

Scorpius paced back and forth three times in front of the wall and whispered, _“I need to find the fugitives hiding around Hogwarts that the dementors are here for… I need to find the fugitives hiding around Hogwarts that the dementors are here for… I need to find the fugitives hiding around Hogwarts that the dementors are here for.”_

When he looked up, a door had materialized. Scorpius couldn’t believe his luck. He yanked it open, hoping desperately to find Ron and Ginny Weasley hidden inside. He barely had any time to examine the room. The moment Scorpius had the door open, a branch that looked and terrified like one of the Whomping Willow’s branches smashed down within an inch of his foot. Scorpius leapt back and shouted, “Thank you!” before slamming the door shut.

He was back to Transfiguration in time to plausibly argue to Sirius that he had just left to use the bathroom.

*

Scorpius had to get to the Shrieking Shack. He was confident that every answer he needed could be found in the Shrieking Shack. As Harry Potter seemed to live in his office and rarely showed his face in public, the only real obstacle was Sirius, who proved to be quite the obstacle. Days would go by in which Sirius wouldn’t leave his side or would, at the very least, block the exit of the room. Days were turning into weeks. Scorpius spent his fifteenth birthday in an alternate timeline with a knockoff Potter who Scorpius feared, resented, and adored. His frustrations with Sirius, the world, and himself made it much easier to act like the horrible, angry version of himself that Sirius encouraged him to become at least in public.

Scorpius had attempted to speak to him about the world that Scorpius had left, to explain why it was so much better than this and why Sirius should consider surrendering his own existence to bring it back. Sirius was, Scorpius believed, a much better person than he was willing to let on. He was not, however, that good of a person. He refused and maintained an icy distance for at least a day after every time Scorpius brought it up. The alternate world was even worse without Sirius talking to him. 

Eventually, Scorpius gave up on appealing to his better nature and began working on a plan to get onto the Hogwarts grounds without Sirius noticing or following him. He would love to be able to come up with a plan where he could sneak out of their room and the castle without Sirius ever realizing, but it appeared to be an impossible goal. Either he would stay up much later than Scorpius or wake up whenever Scorpius tried to creep out of their room (to go to the bathroom, as he explained to Sirius). 

It was clear, unfortunately, that Scorpius was going to have to incapacitate him in some way. Sirius was much better at defense than Scorpius; within a few weeks, he had almost mastered a fire whip. Scorpius didn’t know a single person in his reality who could create a fire whip. Scorpius would not be able to disarm or stun him while he was conscious, and even if stunning someone in their sleep weren’t a cowardly and unacceptable thing to do to someone, Sirius took his wand at night.

He needed a wand. Scorpius was not, under the circumstances, going to pretend he was better than stunning someone in their sleep. He just had to get to the Shrieking Shack. Sirius kept their wands in a drawer that would open only to his touch. The only thing to do, Scorpius realized, was to get another wand.

The wand was not actually difficult to get. The next time Sirius got caught up in one of his long, taunting conversations with Reina, Scorpius disarmed a frightened little first year. He dangled the wand in front of his face and said, “I’ll be keeping this then,” before tucking the wand up his sleeve. “I would not recommend telling anyone about this.”

The first year, who avoided meeting his eyes for the entire encounter, nodded and sprinted away to the safety of his other first years. Scorpius did not feel good about bullying a poor child, but it was a huge relief to surrender his wand to Sirius knowing that there was another tucked in his bag. Scorpius’s heart rate did not go down for the rest of the day. Sirius even pressed his hand against Scorpius’s heart underneath his shirt and gave him a funny look before misinterpreting the source of Scorpius’s bounding pulse entirely.

Much later that night, he pretended to sleep and waited for Sirius’s breathing to slow down enough to indicate a deep sleep. Without getting off the bed, Scorpius reached his arm down to dig around in his open bookbag until his fingers closed around the wand. He brought his arm back up very carefully and tried to assess his affinity for the wand without casting a spell. He felt the faint warmth of magic flowing through the wand and figured it was safe enough to point the wand at Sirius and whisper, _“Stupefy.”_

Sirius’s sleeping body lifted and fell about an inch, and Scorpius felt disgusted with himself before following it up with a body bind and climbing out of bed, hoping that Sirius didn’t share Albus’s ability to shake off a body bind in a matter of minutes. Sirius and Albus didn’t seem to share any of the same magical abilities, but it was safest to assume that Sirius would be able to get out of the body bind and that Scorpius only had a matter of minutes to get out of sight. 

Each step towards the exit brought more dread and hopelessness until Scorpius finally remembered that the ground would be swarming with dementors until morning. Scorpius had never conjured a Patronus before; he had never even tried, and Professor Potter was only going to start covering it this year. Moreover, this wand did not even belong to him. A stunning spell and body bind were small potatoes compared to a Patronus.

Scorpius had to retreat. There was no other option. He had to go back to the room, and then Sirius would know never to trust him again. He was never going to get back to his reality. He wouldn’t have been able to conjure a Patronus even under the easiest circumstances. Tens of dementors, a wand that did not answer to him, and a world entirely devoid of hope or joy were not the easiest of circumstances.

Albus had told him that he would be the best in their year at defense if he’d let himself be.

He thought about how excited he had been on the day when Professor Potter first brought Albus to his dad’s office. He had never met another person who really understood him, especially not someone his own age. He had been so excited to meet Albus, and Albus had been trying to hide how excited he was to meet Scorpius. Albus had brought him the muggle books he’d promised and hadn’t even laughed at Scorpius for crying when he finished The Lorax. Albus had never laughed at Scorpius at all in anything other than a good-humored, teasing way. Scorpius loved Albus, and if he got back to his reality, he would be able to tell him.

Scorpius pushed open the door, protected for a second from the oppressive power of the dementors, and shouted, _“Expecto Patronum!”_

A bright light burst out of the wand and illuminated the grounds. Even just a solid shield was an incredible win given the circumstances. Scorpius beamed at it, and then, very slowly, the shield separated itself from his wand and took shape. It turned around to look at Scorpius as if it was sentient enough to know that he’d like to get a good look at it before it charged across the ground.

Scorpius’s smile faded slightly then froze on his face in an unpleasant grimace. His first thought was that he had, in the grand tradition, conjured a stag. He was close. The palmated antlers were significantly larger, almost comically so. Scorpius had seen something like it before, as fossils. He knew that the occasional wizard could conjure a Patronus with the form of a magical beast, but until this point, he had never heard of a wizard conjuring a Patronus of an extinct species. Scorpius frowned at his Great Horn deer, unwilling to consider the implications of an extinct species of deer being his Patronus, and said, “Megaloceros.”

The Megaloceros turned and charged across the grounds, driving away the dementors so that Scorpius could run after it. He didn’t have to tell the Patronus to clear a path to the Shrieking Shack. It knew inherently what Scorpius needed from it. 

Scorpius wasn’t thinking clearly when he reached the Whomping Willow and had to jump out of the way to avoid a branch. Remembering one of Rose’s stories, he levitated a rock towards a knob in the trunk. He got it on his fifth or sixth try, and the Patronus stood guard until he succeeded. Scorpius looked at it and said, “I love you very, very much,” and it dissipated, leaving him alone once more.

He glanced over his shoulder once. No one had followed him. Taking a deep breath, Scorpius crawled into the passage. He was so eager to reach someone with whom he could speak freely that he didn’t really consider the dangers of walking straight into the base of the only wizards able to evade both Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter. The passage must have been under heavy surveillance because the moment Scorpius reached the entrance of the Shack, he was disarmed and bound with thick magical ropes. The ropes moved of their own volition to tug him into the dim light of the Shrieking Shack.

Three shadowy figures, one holding the wand that Scorpius had stolen from the first year, approached him warily. “Look at this one,” said an unfamiliar man’s voice. “White hair and a fancy robe? This must be a Malfoy.”

“Well, well, well,” drawled the other person not holding Scorpius’s wand. A half-familiar redhead stepped into the shadowy light so that he could survey Scorpius more carefully. He was cold and calculating but lacked the deadness in his eyes of Dark Potter that scared Scorpius so much. This was a man who had suffered in order to fight. Dark Potter had suffered and suffered and suffered, and Scorpius really couldn’t blame him because the image he’d had of Harry Potter, the symbol of pure goodness, had been unfair to him, but he’d suffered until he’d given up. If Scorpius had learned anything from the alternate universe, it was that anyone could be terrible under the wrong circumstances. This man, however, did not look close to giving up. Scorpius almost smiled. “Little Malfoy, wandering into the Shrieking Shack in the middle of a dementor sweep without his Potter boyfriend. What’s that mean?”

“Have you heard of Mad Libs, Fred?” asked the first speaker. Fred! It took a minute for the pieces to click into place. This was Albus’s dead uncle. Scorpius was in the company of Fred and George Weasley. “Someone’s exhausted all the good nouns.”

Scorpius looked at the third occupant of the Shack and almost collapsed in relief. “Teddy!”

Teddy Lupin put a hand to their heart. “He knows my name. An honor.”

“If I’m being really honest with myself,” said Fred Weasley, “I don’t much fancy killing an unarmed child.”

“Feels wrong, doesn’t it?” said George. “Teddy? You’re a child. You do it.”

“More equal that way,” Fred explained.

“Teddy,” Scorpius gasped. “I know you. I’m not - I’m from a different timeline. I need you to believe me. I’m from a different timeline, and then Albus and I tried to mess with time, and now we’ve mucked up everything and Albus doesn’t even exist to help me put things right. I don’t know what you know about Scorpius Malfoy, but I’m not the person that he is, I promise!”

“Albus Dumbledore?” George asked.

“No, Albus Severus Potter,” said Scorpius, wilting as he waited for the inevitable response.

“Stupid name,” said Fred. “He named his son after Snape, you say?”

George nodded. “Sirius Potter doesn’t deserve his name, but no child deserves that name.”

“So we’re accepting this at face value?” Teddy asked. “I just want to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

“It’s been a while since we’ve had a bard stop in,” said George. “I’m down to hear the tale.”

“This isn’t a joke! I was going to set everything back the way it was, but then Harry Potter destroyed my time turner as soon as he found me and Sirius. In my timeline, all the time turners were destroyed in the Department of Mysteries.”

“Ours too,” said Fred. 

Scorpius’s heart sank. “I was worried about that. But Sirius must have gotten one from somewhere.”

“If there’s a working time turner, it’s some shady Malfoy shit,” George told him.

“That… seems very likely to me, actually,” said Scorpius. “I just thought that maybe - maybe I can’t get home, but we can make this world better, right? Aren’t you fighting to make this world better? At the very least, I have a clear vision of how things could have been.”

“He’s just trying to figure out our plan,” Teddy said. “If you want us to trust you, you’re going to have to offer more than a fantastical description of the future.”

“Present,” corrected Scorpius. “Alternate timeline.”

“Sure. Can you offer us anything at all? You seem strangely harmless for the Scorpion King, so we’ll be lenient and Obliviate you.”

Scorpius thought this over as Teddy and the Weasley twins waited. “I can tell you that Harry Potter is a horcrux of Voldemort and also Master of the Elder Wand?”

“Hm,” said Fred after a loaded silence. “Seems like he has a lot to offer then.”

“How do you know what horcruxes are?” George asked. “Hoping to make some of your own?” 

Fred nudged him. “We get to be the very first sacrifices! It’s just like I've always dreamt it.”

“This is why we’ve survived so long, I’d wager,” added George.

“You know what horcruxes are!” Scorpius cried in desperate relief. “How - how do you know what horcruxes are?”

“Same way as you, I expect,” said Fred. “Sucking up to our professors.”

“Albus Dumbledore discovered the horcruxes,” Scorpius said steadily. “And he told Harry Potter, who was allowed to tell Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. Who told you?”

“Who told you?” George asked. 

“Harry Potter’s son.”

“Sirius,” Fred reminded George gravely. “An embarrassment to the name.”

“No, not Sirius,” said Scorpius. “Albus. Albus Severus Potter.”

George snorted derisively. “How could you forget Albus Severus Potter, Fred?”

“Yes!” said Scorpius. “Yes! That is - the theoretics of horcruxes are common knowledge, but Albus gave me the details. I suppose - maybe the Prophet archives were where I first saw the word? Dad told me not to talk about them. People in my reality think I might be Voldemort’s kid.”

“Not the Augurey?” Fred asked, which meant nothing to Scorpius.

George peered at him closely. “I don’t know what your fictional boyfriend told you or how you came up with this stuff, but Voldemort has seven horcruxes, and the only one left is around Albus Severus’s dad’s neck.” 

“Albus isn’t fictional!” Scorpius shouted. Both Fred and George seem surprised by the outburst. “Albus Severus Potter! My best friend! Middle Potter child! Son of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley!”

“Ginny,” interrupted George sharply. “Harry and Ginny?”

Scorpius nodded frantically. “I told you! This isn’t my timeline. I’m from somewhere better. Harry and Ginny get married and have three kids, and they’re all brilliant, and one of them is my best friend, and he’s so stupidly heroic that he wants to save people who have already died, and we accidentally wiped him from existence. Teddy, James Potter is your best friend.”

“I think you mean that James Lupin is my brother,” Teddy said like Scorpius was very slow.

“Ginny,” Fred breathed, ignoring Teddy’s skepticism.

“She’s amazing,” Scorpius gushed. He was unable to tear his eyes away from Fred. “She’s so warm. She always knows what to say. She’s so funny. She edits the sports pages for the Prophet, and she was a Holyhead Harpies chaser for a few years before Albus was born. Harry and Albus - they wouldn’t be anything without her. I’ve met Harry without her here, and he’s horrible, isn’t he?”

“Ginny died,” George reminded him. Neither of them seem as threatening as they once had. “Ginny died in the Burrow attack.”

Scorpius shook his head. “Not in my timeline. In my timeline - she’s a war hero. She survived the Carrows. She fought in the Battle of Hogwarts. She won. She’s the strongest person I know. The only person who can really get through to Albus.”

“The Battle of Hogwarts,” repeated George. 

He looked at Fred for a response, but Fred was just frowning thoughtfully at Scorpius. “You’re staring at me a lot, aren’t you, ferret?”

Scorpius inhaled slowly and whispered, “She never got over losing you, I think. Ginny. Everyone. You can feel it when you’re with them, that you should be there. That no one quite knows what to do without you there.”

“Oh,” said Fred softly.

George was looking wildly between Fred and Scorpius. “He - Fred, this is some crazy little blood supremacist prick. He has no idea what he’s talking about.”

Scorpius and Fred did not drop eye contact, and Scorpius continued, “Sometimes they’ll laugh, and then there’s this silence - this overwhelming sense of guilt. I have no idea what it was like before, but your family - you all must have been so happy. You’ve all lost so much.”

“But in your timeline,” said Fred. His eyes seemed brighter than they had before. “They’re all alive? In your timeline?”

Scorpius nodded again. “Everyone.”

Fred looked to George, who was staring at Scorpius in horror. Fred’s lips curled down in disappointment, and he focused back on Scorpius. “You’re friends with Ginny’s son?”

“My best friend,” Scorpius said emphatically. “Her and Harry’s, and sometimes Harry is shitty, but Ginny never is. She’s the only person I know who’s never shitty. Albus loves her so much. And they have two other kids, James Sirius and Lily Luna. James is - he’s funny and popular and smart. They all are, except Albus isn’t popular. Neither of us are. James threatened the Sorting Hat to send him to Hufflepuff with Teddy. Lily is iconoclastic and confident and a force to be reckoned with. They’re amazing.”

“Fred,” George whispered. He sounded, in some way that Scorpius couldn’t quite understand, like an open wound. “We can’t trust him.”

Fred shook his head. “And the others?”

“Your parents are - they’re inundated with grandchildren. Twelve, I think.”

“Fred,” protested George.

“They’re both alive?” Fred asked. “Both our parents?”

“It’s just - most people are. The Weasleys - relatively speaking… you got lucky.”

Fred’s expression didn’t change in the slightest. “Our family’s been wiped off the map.”

“Not in my reality,” Scorpius promised. “Charlie - he’s still living with the dragons. He never got married, which Albus thinks means —“

“Charlie’s gay,” Fred interrupted, sounding increasingly desperate. “Tell Albus to ask him about his weird feelings for you. Or vice versa. What about Ron?”

Scorpius’s heart yanked at the blunt response, but he understood Fred’s focus. He smiled weakly. “Ron - he married Hermione Granger. She’s Minister for Magic. He’s our First Gentleman. He works with George. They have two kids, Hugo and Rose, and Rose is - you’ve never met a girl like her. Apparently ‘monster’ isn’t considered a compliment to most people, but she’s a monster. I’m dating her, actually, but… vice versa is correct, apparently.”

George was shaking his head wildly and seemed almost beside himself with grief when Fred said, “Percy.”

“He reunited with your family at the Battle of Hogwarts,” Scorpius whispered. “He - he apologized for everything. He cared about you so much. The two of you - you duelled together, against the Death Eaters and corrupt Ministry.” He swallowed thickly. “Percy - he said something that distracted you - he made a joke, mid-duel. You said - you said, ‘You’re joking, Perce. You’re actually joking. I don’t think I’ve heard you joke since you were —‘. And he, Percy killed him afterwards, Rookwood. Later, in the battle. People say that murder isn’t courageous, but Percy killed Rookwood, and your mum killed Bellatrix. You were heroes.”

Fred, who seemed close to tears, choked down a sob. “Our mum killed Bellatrix Lestrange?”

“She attacked Ginny,” Scorpius told him. “You’d already - she’d already lost a child, and Bellatrix attacked Ginny, and she said - she said, ‘Not my daughter, you bitch’.”

Fred let out the strangest combination of sob and laugh that Scorpius had ever heard. George was looking between Fred and Scorpius in horror like Scorpius was trying to convince him of something very terrible. At the first sound of Fred crying, however, George broke down. Fred continued to look at Scorpius with misty-eyed shock, and George sobbed as he slid down to the floor. Teddy crossed the room to sit next to him without a word.

“And what happened to George?” Fred asked quietly, making George sob even louder.

“He married Angelina Johnson,” Scorpius whispered. “He and Ron run Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. Two kids - Roxanne and Fred.”

“Ah,” said Fred. He glanced at the grieving George. “You poached her, Georgie. Can’t say I blame you.”

George crumbled, and Fred examined him like he’d only just noticed he was in the room with him and Scorpius. “Did you - I’m sorry, did you not just hear a beautiful story about every member of our family being alive?”

George took his time as he calmed down before rasping, “Not every.”

Fred’s expression twitched thoughtfully. He walked over to kneel in front of George, Scorpius completely forgotten. “George,” he whispered. “There might be a world where mum, dad, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Percy, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny are all alive.” His voice broke. “So what if I’m not?”

George grabbed his wrist. “Because it’s been us, Fred! It’s been us since birth, and it’s been us, alone, for the past decade. Now little Draco is feeding you some unverifiable information, and you’re going to leave me!”

“Do you think he’s lying?” Fred whispered. “Why would he come here?”

“Plots and traps! He could be here for anything!”

“Hey, little Draco,” Fred called.

“Scorpius,” Scorpius informed him.

Fred’s lip twitched. “How old were you the first time you jacked off to Albus Potter?”

Scorpius turned bright red and started stuttering mindlessly, and Fred said, “See, George? No way would anyone send him for a secret mission. The kid can’t lie for shit.”

“So he’s not lying,” said George. “What then?”

Fred looked at Scorpius thoughtfully. “Then I suppose we have another horcrux to worry about, and fortunately, we’re in the presence of someone who knows exactly how to destroy all of them.”

Scorpius was still attempting to respond to the Albus accusation when Fred’s faith jerked him back into reality. “You said Harry Potter has a horcrux around his neck - the locket? They never managed to destroy the locket?”

Fred frowned. “You’ve shared your world with us, so I think it’s time we fill you in on our world, eh?”

“At what point in time did you alter reality?” Teddy asked, apparently willing to humor the story as long as Fred believed it. “Where did we veer off?”

“The first triwizard task. We disarmed Cedric.”

“Ah, I wondered how butterfingers lost his wand,” said Fred with forced humor. “And then the fight for the prophecy in the Department of Mysteries happened, so things were still roughly parallel.”

“I heard that Harry killed Snape,” said Scorpius. “Harry didn’t kill Snape in my world. Voldemort killed him because he wanted the Elder Wand.”

Fred nodded vaguely, his mind a million miles away. “Harry killed Snape after Hermione drowned in the Forest of Dean. He thought that it was his fault that Hermione died. Might have been, for all we know. He was the first person Harry killed. We didn’t hear from him again until Ron got killed by some snatchers and the rest of our family died in the attack on the Burrow. After that, Harry just kind of gave up. He wears the locket at all times and has some sort of mutually assured destruction truce going on with Voldemort. People like to say that he works at Hogwarts to protect the students, but he’s not protecting anyone but himself.”

“Ron was supposed to rescue Harry in the Forest of Dean! He came back because he loved Hermione.”

George was watching him with begrudging interest. “Ron didn’t love Hermione, mate. I think they went to the Yule Ball together, if that’s what you’re thinking of?”

“You said they had children together, right?” Fred asked. “I seem to remember Hermione getting asked by Krum, allegedly, and rejecting him because she thought a few members of Durmstrang were responsible for disarming Cedric during - oh!” He glared at Scorpius. “You did ruin reality, didn’t you? Do you have any idea how much shit we gave Hermione for saying that Krum asked her?”

“Krum did ask her,” Scorpius said in a small voice.

Fred held out a hand to him. “Well, that’s where it all went wrong, then!”

“Now I feel a bit bad for razzing her so hard,” admitted George. “Seeing as it led to the deaths of all our friends and family.”

“And Krum had actually asked her,” Teddy pointed out.

“I feel like a right arse, really,” said George.

“Okay, perhaps we could have handled it a bit better,” said Fred. “Now is not the time for pointing fingers.”

As one, Fred, George, and Teddy all pointed at Scorpius, who nodded disconsolately and accepted the blame.

“We need a plan,” continued Fred. “Our main goal should be to find another time turner for Scorpius, but without Sirius or any inside men in the Ministry, I haven’t the faintest how we’re going to do that. We have another horcrux to get, but it is unfortunately in the exact same place as the locket and is going to require killing the Master of Death.”

“How have you been finding and destroying the others?”

“The cup, Bill told us there had been an obscene amount of new protections added to Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault. He helped us sneak into Gringotts, and we just conjured some fiendfyre in the vault and slammed the door shut.”

“It is a sign of really, really incredible magical defenses that the fiendfyre never got out of the vault,” George said. “Didn’t save the horcrux, but really admirable magic.”

“The Ravenclaw crown thing was all the kids, though - back when Teddy was still at school, so they could take the blame for it. Teddy and Art tracked it down, and Fitz and James harvested some basilisk fangs from the chamber of secrets - got ‘em in the corner if you want to take a look. The Sorting Hat we just hit with a good, old-fashioned killing curse.”

Scorpius coughed. “The Sorting Hat? Excuse me?”

Fred’s proud smile faded. “I… yes, the sixth horcrux? The diary, the ring, the locket, the cup, the tiara, and the Sorting Hat?”

Scorpius shook his head apologetically. “The sixth horcrux is Voldemort’s snake Nagini.”

Fred swore loudly, and George shouted, “You told me they couldn’t be living things!”

“It wouldn’t make any sense!” shouted Fred. “What about when the animal dies naturally? Is its corpse a horcrux? Does it need its own horcrux? Is Nagini the Snake Master of Death?”

“Well why would it have been the Sorting Hat?”

“Because of his obsession with the Houses! We discussed this!”

“Now we’ve just killed a poor, innocent old hat!”

“How could it have been a horcrux? It was still in active use for years,” Scorpius pointed out.

“You don’t need to rub it in,” Fred said sourly.

“You did a very good job for no guidance whatsoever!”

“And now he’s condescending us,” said George. “Unbelievable.”

“How did you destroy the horcrux in Harry?” Teddy asked.

“Voldemort killed him. I think it had to be Voldemort.”

Fred frowned. “We can’t just run him through with the Sword of Gryffindor?”

“I… suppose you could do that,” Scorpius admitted.

“Alright,” said George. “There’s our plan: Stab Harry. Destroy the locket. Kill the snake. Kill Voldemort. A good, simple four-step plan. Maybe grab a time turner if one crosses our path.”

“I can’t believe you’re listening to this,” said Harry’s disembodied voice, and Fred, George, and Teddy all tracked the sound so that their wands were on him before he even pulled the cloak off. He raised the Elder Wand to point at George. No one was arrogant enough to admire their three-on-one advantage. “I couldn’t stomach it for another second. He’s a raving, grief-stricken child.”

“He seems pretty lucid to me,” said George. “Now hang tight, Harry, because we can’t kill you with our wands. Freddy, grab the snake teeth.”

“That’s funny,” Harry said, unamused. He switched targets to focus on Scorpius, and in one of the most shocking turns of the day, Fred pushed Scorpius behind him protectively. “I don’t know where you got the information you think you know, Scorpius, but it is dangerous to be this gullible.”

Teddy hit Scorpius with a nonverbal spell to release him from his binds but did not go so far as to return his wand. Scorpius took a step out from behind Fred and said, “You know, don’t you? You’ve heard this before. Someone told you that you were a horcrux, but you weren’t willing to listen to them.”

“The slashed portraits in your office,” finished Teddy, who must have decided to accept Scorpius’s information as true to the best of his knowledge. “Snape, I understood, but I always wondered what Dumbledore or Nigellus could have said to upset you so much.”

“I destroyed their portraits because Snape was a liar, Dumbledore was a manipulator, and Phineas Nigellus couldn’t keep his nose out of my business,” Harry said in a calm, matter-of-fact voice.

“Hey,” said Scorpius, struck by a huge realization. “How long has it been since you’ve taken off that locket?”

“I don’t take off the locket,” Harry snarled. “It’s my only form of insurance against Voldemort.”

“It’s sweet he doesn’t make you call him the Dark Lord,” Fred said. “You guys must really be _there,_ you know?”

Scorpius raised his hand. “I think that you should take off the locket for this conversation.”

George held out a hand. “We’ll take care of it for you, Harry.”

“No,” said Scorpius. “We’re all going to put our wands on the ground and take a step back, and Harry will take off the locket. No one will do anything to threaten it.”

“I am not putting my wand on the ground,” said George.

“Your wand wouldn’t help you if I wanted you dead, George,” Harry told him coldly. The sentiment, that Harry did not want them dead, was rather nice.

Fred sighed heavily then dropped his wand to the ground with a dramatic flourish and stepped away from it. George shot Scorpius a dirty look like was manipulating his brother then did the same, and Teddy dropped both their and Scorpius’s wands. Scorpius, already wandless, held both hands above his shoulders. Harry made no move to either strike or comply. In his softest voice, Scorpius said, “You, Hermione, and Ron used to take turns. Then you and Hermione after Ron left. The locket was too powerful to wear for long periods of time.”

Harry stayed completely still, and Scorpius forced himself to hold eye contact with his lifeless green eyes. “You were wearing the locket on the night you found the Sword of Gryffindor in the Forest of Dean. You followed a Patronus of a doe - you thought your mother sent it. The locket tried to fight back and strangle you under the water. You were going to die, but then someone pulled you out. Ron had found you and saw you dive in. He’d left you and Hermione, because the locket and jealousy and pain from being splinched had messed him up a bit. He had tried to find you again but couldn’t through all the protective enchantments. He only made his way back because Dumbledore had left him his deluminator. He was playing with it and heard Hermione saying his name. He apparated on instinct and waited for one of you to leave the enchantments. The Forest of Dean was supposed to be where the three of you came back together.”

Harry’s blank expression did not shift, and Scorpius, who had successfully made himself cry, was unable to think of anything else that would convince him more than that story had. Hesitantly, Harry pulled from around his neck a heavy gold locket with a glittering green S on the front. He looked shocked that he had done it, and his breath started to speed up into increasingly hysterical gasps as he looked down at it in his hands. Scorpius hurried forward to take it from him, surprised when Harry willingly handed it over.

Harry collapsed onto his knees, and Scorpius spared a second to take in the astounded and somewhat impressed looks of Fred, George, and Teddy before sitting down and joining him on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. He thought maybe someone should give him a hug, but it wasn’t going to be Scorpius. His attention kept being pulled magnetically back to the locket in his hands. This was, he was sure, the evil that he had felt around Harry Potter. Just holding it in his hands was all-encompassing. Scorpius couldn’t imagine the effects of wearing it for almost two decades. The fact that he still had any goodness left in him after all that time reinforced Scorpius’s wavering perception of Harry Potter the hero.

After Harry’s shuddering had subsided, Fred crouched down in front of him and asked, “So how long had you been in here for?”

They talked for a long time, George and Teddy joining them on the floor soon thereafter, but Scorpius was enthralled by the locket. It was different to read about a horcrux or listen to Albus and Rose sharing stories with him. Nothing could do justice to the pure power emanating from this one cursed object. The entire world slipped away, leaving nothing but Scorpius and the locket, which he thought sounded like it was whispering to him in a language he didn’t understand. 

It could have been minutes or hours; the Shack was so boarded up that no light would have shown through anyway. Finally, Fred extended a hand to him and said, in a gentle voice, “Scorpius? Hand it over.”

Fred was holding a basilisk fang, and Scorpius pulled the locket toward him possessively. He wanted to lash out and protect it but was the only member of the party unarmed. Fred, too polite (or perhaps unaccustomed to muggle references) to mock Scorpius for going full Gollum, simply pried his fingers off it and pulled it out of his hands.

“You can’t destroy it,” Scorpius heard himself plead. “It’s - it’s Harry’s insurance! Voldemort will kill him.”

“Then we’ll have to act fast,” said Harry. “He won’t know it’s been destroyed for some time. That should give us time to get the snake and get you into Malfoy Manor.”

Scorpius blinked. “Why am I going to Malfoy Manor?”

Harry, who had experienced the power of the locket himself, did not make any comments about Scorpius’s distraction during their conversation. He explained again, “Because Lucius Malfoy is the only man who is known to have a working time turner in his possession. I assume that’s where Sirius and the other Scorpius got their first time turner from.”

“We figured what better way to celebrate our new alliance than with destroying a horcrux,” George told him. “So we just stab it then, do we?”

Scorpius tried to relax and forget his desperate desire to grab the locket. “Harry needs to open it in Parseltongue.”

Harry nodded and leaned forward to stare at the serpentine S on the locket as Fred held it out to him. He made some hissing noises like the ones that had opened the door to his office, but the locket did not react. A twisting in Scorpius’s gut tried to encourage him to jump in. Harry tilted his head to the side and hissed differently. Whether by wind or magic, the locket rotated on its chain so that the S was pointed right at Scorpius. 

Scorpius reached a hand out to steady the locket, just brushing it with his fingers to hold it in place, and mimicked the hissing noises that Harry had just made. Under normal circumstances, Parseltongue was not such an easy language to mimic, but the power of the locket drew it out of him. The locket clicked open. 

Inside, there were two dark brown eyes. Scorpius’s spine stiffened as they blinked at him. Something horrible was supposed to happen now; Albus had described storms and evil visions and other storybook frights that Scorpius couldn’t remember. Nothing was happening. The eyes blinked again, and when they reopened, they were red and slitlike. A noise in Parseltongue that Scorpius somehow understood said _my son,_ and a strange feeling of warmth spread from the fingertips touching the locket down Scorpius’s arm and into his chest. Finally thinking clearly, Scorpius yanked his hand back and shouted, “Kill it!”

Fred stabbed it with the fang several more times than was technically necessary. The whole room felt lighter with the horcrux destroyed. Harry gave Scorpius an odd look and said, “Anything you’d like to share with the class?”

“It - it preys on your insecurities and fears,” Scorpius muttered. “In my world, people think I might be Voldemort’s son.”

“Voldemort doesn’t have a _son,”_ Harry said.

“Yes, well, it’s a stupid rumor,” Scorpius snapped. He suddenly did not feel much more at ease. “Which is why it was so easy to resist.”

“Fair enough,” said Harry. He stood up and looked to Fred and George. “I’ll give Scorpius a mirror for communication and get Lucius to take him home today. We should know in a few days if there’s another time turner available. If not, we’ll get to work on the snake.”

“That poor, poor hat,” George lamented. “We’re monsters.”

“I really thought it was the hat!” Fred protested.

Harry, for the first time since Scorpius entered this new reality, flashed them a big, genuine smile. Fred noticed the change in his demeanor and hopped up to give him a tight hug that Harry melted into immediately. “Glad to have you back, Harry.”

“We knew no one could be as awful as we said you were,” added George.

Harry looked at Teddy, who kept their face intentionally blank. Harry’s smile slipped. Teddy looked down at the floor and murmured, “I hope I see you in the alternate timeline, then.”

“Yeah,” said Harry. He helped Scorpius up and accepted the stolen wand back from Teddy on his behalf. “We need to get back to school. I’m not sure who else would be awake this early, but Sirius will have noticed your absence.”

Scorpius, without considering that Harry Potter was still Sirius’s father, swore under his breath. Fred and George roared with laughter, and Teddy’s lip twisted up in an attempt to contain his amusement. 

“He’s not that bad,” Harry said, still smiling.

“He’s psychotic,” Scorpius informed him. “I miss James and Albus.”

Harry looked very sad at the names of his other sons and hung his head. In an effort to spare him, George hopped up to shake Scorpius’s hand. His grip was just firm enough to cause some discomfort, and George shook his hand vigorously. “Well, Scorpius Malfoy, you’ve made an impact. That’s for sure.”

Scorpius started to follow Harry out then faltered and looked back at Fred, who was watching the two of them leave with oddly bright eyes. Scorpius took a step back to him, and Fred rushed across the Shack to grab his shoulders. 

“Put it back, okay, Scorpius? Bring all of them back, and tell them how much I love them. I’ve thought about all of them every single day, even bloody Percy. Don’t let him stop joking just because his last joke accidentally got me killed.” He looked back at George then gave Scorpius a brave smile. “Tell George that I wanted it to be this way. Tell all of them that this was my choice.”

Scorpius swallowed down a lump in his throat and nodded. “It was incredible to have a chance to meet you, Fred.” 

Fred struggled to keep up his smile. “Don’t let Ron run our business into the ground.”

Scorpius nodded. He looked at Teddy, who had been oddly silent. Scorpius had not received any concrete information on whether or not Remus Lupin was alive in this universe or when he had died, but Teddy was certainly surrendering their brother and possible only living family member to change the world. They did not smile at Scorpius but did nod tersely and say, “See you two on the other side, then.”

*

Dawn was breaking outside the Shack, but the thick cloud of dementors made the grounds dark and gloomy. Harry’s Patronus blasted out of his wand at full force and drove all the dementors from the ground so powerfully that Scorpius barely had time to appreciate Harry Potter’s famous stag Patronus before it vanished. The sudden disappearance of the dementors combined with the hope that Scorpius felt when he saw the stag made it feel like Harry Potter himself had brought out the sun. 

Harry was looking at the spot where the stag had vanished with a look of complete awe, and his hand came up to rub his neck where the chain of the horcrux used to burn into his skin. Then he returned to his senses and grabbed Scorpius by the arm. “Remember to act like you’re in trouble,” Harry advised him. It was not difficult to fake as Harry dragged him to the rooms that he shared with Sirius. 

Harry paused outside the doorway and gave Scorpius an apologetic look before shooting a silencing spell at him that visibly sewed his lips closed. Scorpius nodded to communicate his acceptance of the spell. It definitely made it much easier to think of what he would say to Sirius: Nothing! Harry was truly brilliant.

The moment that Harry opened the door, Sirius jumped up from the couch. He looked murderous and was clearly prepared to attack Scorpius but was halted first by his alarm at the sight of his father. His eyes flew from Scorpius’s knitted lips to Harry in horror, and he took a step back. “What did you do? Why is his mouth like that?”

“Scorpius broke about ten school rules tonight and is being sent home temporarily to await a formal punishment. His lips are sealed so that he doesn’t corrupt other students.”

“Okay, well, it’s just me here, so undo it,” Sirius snapped. He pulled out his wand and said, _“Finite incanta—“_ but was disarmed easily by his dad, who tucked Sirius’s wand up his sleeve for temporary storage.

“Pack anything you’ll need, Scorpius,” Harry said. “Sirius, don’t sulk.”

“I have nothing left to do _but_ sulk!” Sirius shouted. Scorpius faltered. It was the most like Albus Sirius had ever sounded and made Scorpius desperate to get to Malfoy Manor and find another time turner. He started throwing clothes and books at random into a bag that may not have even belonged to him. He stopped next to Harry by the door and mimed using a wand. 

Sirius frowned. “Right.”

He hopped up to grab Scorpius’s wand and handed it to him reluctantly. Harry followed the movement with a befuddled expression. “Why do you have his wand, Sirius?”

“I was holding onto it for him,” Sirius muttered as Scorpius accepted it. “He was acting erratically.”

“Oh. Well. I’ll get yours back to you once Scorpius is safely with his grandfather, alright?”

“Fine,” Sirius mumbled. He shot Scorpius a hateful look.

Scorpius paused then dropped the bag on the floor and ran forward to hug Sirius tightly. Sirius didn’t try to resist, just clung to him and shuddered until Harry cleared his throat. He looked very conflicted as Scorpius took a step back and grabbed his bag again but left the room without another word, and Scorpius followed quickly after.

Harry lifted the silencing spell the moment they turned the corner. Scorpius breathed in through his mouth eagerly and twirled his wand around mindlessly. Harry looked at it thoughtfully then asked, “Did you really do a Patronus with someone else’s wand?”

“Did you really do a Patronus with a horcrux around your neck for eighteen years?” Scorpius shot back. 

“Fair enough,” said Harry, sounding more and more like Professor Potter and Albus’s dad with each minute. “It’s some very impressive magic for someone of your age.”

“That would mean a lot more if it didn’t sound like you were sneakily complimenting yourself,” Scorpius said, very pleased to hear Harry laugh.

They reached the office, and Harry hissed a word that Scorpius thought he could understand as _open,_ but of course, that was just the obvious word that he would have hissed to open a door. It was nothing more than a guess and completely unverified. Scorpius rubbed his chest where the locket had never actually sat and followed Harry up the stairs.

Harry crossed the office without a word and scribbled a note down on a slip of parchment. He frowned down at it then nodded to himself and said, “Kreacher.”

With a crack, the oldest, most repulsive House-elf Scorpius had ever seen popped into the office. “Master has summoned Kreacher,” it - _he_ \- croaked, and Scorpius struggled not to look repulsed for fear of offending the Elf. He had heard of Kreacher but never had to suffer actually meeting him personally. Any House-elves that had been employed in Malfoy Manor since Scorpius’s dad started at the Beast Division were youthful, clean, well-educated, and independent. This decrepit Elf was a living relic of an era when Elves were tied to their awful pure-blood owners until they died.

Kreacher gave Scorpius a deep bow. “And Master Malfoy is here too.” Scorpius liked the way that all of his greetings were simply objective observations of the room.

Harry held out the piece of parchment. “Please send this exactly as it is to Lucius Malfoy for me.”

“Of course, Master Harry,” Kreacher said and disappeared with another crack.

Scorpius raised his eyebrows. “‘Exactly as it is’?”

Harry sighed. “Sometimes you need to check your order for loopholes. He hasn’t acted out in ages, but I don’t like to take chances.”

“He fought at the Battle of Hogwarts,” Scorpius informed him. “He led the House-elves.”

Harry smiled wryly. “I assume that’s how we won. I was shocked when I discovered the extent of Elf magic - they could overthrow us in a single battle if they wanted to.”

“No, they - they mostly hacked at ankles with kitchen knives.”

“Oh,” said Harry. “That seems like a big waste of ability.” He paused. “Why didn’t Dobby lead the charge? He’s really figured out his magic.”

Scorpius frowned, and Harry motioned for him to stay quiet. “I don’t have it in me to mourn an entire timeline of deaths. I really have come to care for him though.”

“He saved your life,” said Scorpius. “Where is he now?”

“At Malfoy Manor.”

“Yes, that’s where he saved your - did I tell you that already?”

Harry gave him a puzzled look. “Dobby is at Malfoy Manor.”

Scorpius recoiled. “Why would you do that to him?”

Harry covered his mouth for a second like he wanted to laugh at Scorpius’s own negative response to the idea of Malfoy Manor. “He’s keeping an eye on Voldemort for me. The Malfoys’ employ turned out to be the easiest way to get him in the vicinity. Lucius wouldn’t dare hurt him.”

“How did you get the Malfoys to employ a House-elf that had betrayed them?”

“Your father, actually,” Harry said softly. “I take it that he’s still alive in your world?”

“He is,” Scorpius said curtly. “Do I want to know how he died?”

“I think you’ve figured it out,” Harry admitted. “I don’t have a lot to offer you. He was very unhappy with his life already, and when I told him that the Elder Wand would go to whichever of us killed him first and that Voldemort was going to figure it out himself sooner or later, he chose me over Voldemort.”

“Okay,” said Scorpius. “You do know you could have just disarmed him, right? He got it from disarming Dumbledore.”

Harry frowned. “Oh. Yeah. That makes - I wonder if this is how George felt about the Sorting Hat.”

“Please don’t compare my dad to an enchanted old hat, Harry.”

“Sorry. Yes. Of course. Not comparable at all.” Harry kept his eyes down. “So I am - I’m better in your reality, then?”

“You’re the Savior,” Scorpius said.

“Oh, no. People don’t really call me that, do they?”

“So frequently.”

Harry covered his mouth again. “I must hate that.”

“You do.”

Harry pulled his hands back and smiled. “I’m really glad that you’re friends with my son, Scorpius. I mean, yes, you and James—”

“Albus,” corrected Scorpius. “Albus is my - James is the other son. Albus is my best friend.”

“So I just didn’t let Ginny name our children then?” Harry asked.

“I think she’s just happy to have helped you make a family,” said Scorpius, and an absolutely heartbreaking smile spread across Harry’s face.

He blushed and tried to hide the smile, which made Scorpius beam at him. “Yes, you and Albus did destroy _your_ world, but even if we can’t find a time turner, I think you helped save this world. I would - I’d really like to meet them. Lily, too. Sirius and I don’t… even with the horcrux off my neck, everything felt easier, other than Sirius. He just doesn’t… I don’t see myself in him. If I’m being honest, I think I know what it probably felt like to raise Sirius Black, so I guess I brought it on myself.”

“Why didn’t you name him James?”

“Well, for one thing, I’m pretty sure Remus Lupin named his son James specifically so I’d have a nasty reminder everyday. I guess I just - I didn’t actually know my dad, so I idealized what I knew about him so much that I thought he’d hate me for the choices I’ve made. Sirius, I knew him. I think that he would have understood where I was coming from when I allowed this world to happen. I didn’t want to think about my father’s opinion whenever I looked at my son.”

“I think that James Sirius Potter is everything you want your son to be,” Scorpius told him gently.

Harry’s lips turned down. “Sirius and Reina - I don’t see much of myself in them, and the parts of me that I do see, I hate. I think I hate the parts of me that I see in them more than I hate them themselves.” He froze as soon as the words escaped his lips, a true admission that he did hate his children in this reality. 

Scorpius jumped to help alleviate his horror. “I think that looking for a parent in a child can often lead to big, um, generalizations and misattributions. Especially when we’re often raised so differently from our parents. My dad is nothing like my grandfather - who is dead in my reality, by the way, so I have no idea who is about to walk into this office. I’m not much like my dad. People like to say I’m Voldemort’s son, but I don’t think I’m like him either.”

“You’re not Voldemort’s son,” Harry assured him. “I think that - those reasons you gave - I think those are why you remind me so much more of myself than my children do? You, not the Scorpius Malfoy from this reality. I wanted my children to have every luxury that I didn’t have, but then I resented them for it. I resented them for having enough - more than enough - when they were younger and not realizing how lucky that was. I resented them for being able to have full meltdowns in class without anyone from the Prophet running a six-page expose on how Voldemort was controlling them. I resented them for not understanding a real struggle to the extent that they would create them for themselves. But you, I… I’m just really glad you’re friends with Albus.”

Scorpius smiled at him. “That really - that means so much, Professor Potter.”

“Professor Potter,” Harry repeated like he also noticed that Scorpius had switched titles. “I really hope that people aren’t too cruel to you in your world, but you must know that you are so much better than the Scorpius Malfoy who exists in this world. And as for the Voldemort rumor - I doubt Voldemort even has a child in your —”

Any heartfelt description of why Scorpius could never be Voldemort’s child was cut off by the door to the office flying open, unlocked by someone who had been able to imitate the Parseltongue password. Harry scowled as he realized his first defense had failed. Scorpius twisted around in his seat to examine the intruder.

The idea of a dark Harry Potter was terrifying. Voldemort was terrifying. This whole world made Scorpius want to sprint in the opposite direction. He hadn’t prepared himself for the idea that someone might be able to scare him more than Voldemort or Dark Harry, but as he beheld his grandfather for the first time in his life, Scorpius was petrified.

When Scorpius’s dad tried to be intimidating to keep classes in line, there was always a bit of humor in it. He would scowl and flourish his cloak, and it was effective but undeniably silly. There was nothing silly about Lucius Malfoy. He was just as tall as Scorpius’s father but well-built and imposing rather than skinny and wiry. Scorpius’s dad had grown out his hair, mostly as an in-joke because he was Potions Master, enough to tie it back in a stubby ponytail. Lucius Malfoy’s long, white ponytail dangled down past his shoulder blades. His wand was held in a serpent head cane, and he wore the Malfoy signet ring, which neither Scorpius nor his father would ever dare wear in public. He was well-dressed, well-groomed, and walked into the office with the air of someone who worked very closely with the Dark Lord. Whatever hole the Malfoys had dug themselves into with the Dark Lord by the end of the war in Scorpius’s reality, they had averted that fate here. 

He caught Scorpius staring at him and dropped the head of his cane down on Scorpius’s shoulder, reminding him to look forward. Harry’s face had steeled the moment that Lucius arrived. He met his glare unflinchingly and even went so far as to fiddle with the Elder Wand in front of him. Lucius seethed for a moment then asked, “What do you mean that I have to take the child home for a few days? For what crime, Mr. Potter?”

“He was terrorizing the other students,” said Harry. “Snapped a first year’s wand. We couldn’t allow it.”

“Oh, as if your charming son hasn’t done worse on a weekly basis since he got here,” Lucius spat. “Scorpius must be granted a bit of leniency.”

“He has been granted leniency,” Harry said loudly. “For weeks, I have overlooked his reign of terror. Enough is enough. We all lose things.”

“Has he been granted the same leniency as, for example, Sirius Potter?”

“Students are scared to share classes with Scorpius.”

“Look at me,” Lucius said, and Scorpius looked up at him blankly. “What did you do?”

Scorpius thought about this carefully then said, in the most general answer he could come up with, “Nothing my father wouldn’t have done.”

“He’s grieving,” said Lucius.

“We’re all grieving someone. Everyone has lost someone.”

“Yes, but he lost someone mere months ago!”

“And he’s had weeks to get over it. I’m not expelling him. I’m simply saying that, as of right now, it is unsafe for the other students to allow Scorpius Malfoy near them. If he goes home and sorts himself out for a few days or weeks - however long it takes, I will be happy to allow him back into Hogwarts.”

“Days or weeks?” Lucius repeated. “I am a busy man. Who is going to watch him?”

“Well, he’s fifteen,” said Harry. “So… himself?

Lucius’s stare bore holes into Scorpius’s skull. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Scorpius again considered this thoughtfully then said, in his most resentful Potter-son voice, “Fuck both of you for betraying my dad.”

He thought he caught a glimpse of Harry looking rather impressed before fixing his emotionless stare on Lucius and repeating, “Grieving.”

Lucius yanked on Scorpius’s arm to pull him up. He pivoted and strode out of the room, and Harry smiled at Scorpius quickly and said, “I’ll have an essay from him in a week on why I ought to let him return to Hogwarts.”

Scorpius nodded almost imperceptibly and hurried after his grandfather.

*

Lucius apparated Scorpius to Malfoy Manor. Either it was a commonplace mode of transportation for Scorpius in this reality or he meant to make Scorpius sick, because he didn’t give Scorpius the slightest warning. It took all of his self-restraint not to vomit as he steadied himself on the wrought iron gate outside the Manor. Lucius sneered at him before placing his hand against a plate and opening the gates to the Manor.

It was strange to see the Malfoy family truly flourish. In Scorpius’s reality, they were still in the top three wealthiest families in the Wizarding World. They owned nice things, and his father gave exorbitant amounts to charities every year that certainly didn’t come from his teacher salary. They still never flaunted their wealth. The Malfoy grounds of Scorpius’s world boasted some lovely gardens, and the Manor itself was huge, but it had nothing on this vibrant display of wealth. Peacocks roamed the grounds. Exotic plants Scorpius didn’t recognize swayed and nipped at him as he walked by. The great chamber of the Manor was lavishly furnished and brilliantly lit; it should have been more inspiring than the dim, empty great chamber of Scorpius’s house. It wasn’t. As Scorpius was led through the Manor, he realized he did not recognize a single piece of furniture from his reality. The house had been emptied out.

Lucius, without a single word, led him to the drawing room. It was illuminated just as grandly as the great chamber and, in addition to new furniture, had portraits on its walls that Scorpius had never seen before. Scorpius’s dad, he realized, had disposed of the ancient Malfoy portraits. Scorpius was absorbed by the rich history of Malfoy men as Lucius announced, “Well, the child has nearly gotten himself expelled.”

Scorpius mentally berated himself for not realizing that the occupants of the room were much more interesting than the portraits. There were four people settled around the room enjoying either tea or spirits. The only person he recognized immediately was his grandmother, Narcissa Malfoy, who was either unrecognizably drunk or on some kind of potion that made her oblivious to the reality around her. She was the only person not focused on Scorpius. The other woman he recognized quickly as Andromeda Tonks then corrected himself based on context - Bellatrix Lestrange. Next to her, a man that must be her husband, Rodolphus Lestrange, and his brother, Rabastan Lestrange. 

Bellatrix pouted and held out her arms like she expected Scorpius to hug her. “What did you do then, sweetheart? Come here, auntie Bella will make you feel better.”

Scorpius scowled, hoping it would pass off as a fifteen-year-old boy who didn’t want to be babied by his aunt, and crossed the room to hug Bellatrix Lestrange. She cradled him and kissed the top of his forehead. “Your solution for those Mudbloods was absolutely brilliant, darling. The Dark Lord was very impressed. Don’t let Harry Potter take that away from you.”

Scorpius tried not to dwell on what solution he’d come up with that could impress the Dark Lord. He smiled weakly and pulled back. Bellatrix, a tremendous combination of beauty and monster, stroked his cheek and cooed, “What did you do, honey?”

“I - I hexed some people,” Scorpius muttered.

“Oh, don’t be humble, sweetheart. Lucius?”

“Apparently he’s been running a reign of terror that culminating in him snapping some student’s wand,” reported Lucius, clearly displeased by the affection Bellatrix was showing Scorpius. Scorpius, he realized, was Bellatrix’s favorite. This was him receiving genuine affection from her. That made it even worse.

“Oh, well that’s nothing,” cooed Bellatrix. “This one could raise hell if he wanted to.”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t snapped at least a wand or two already,” said Rodolphus. “Seems unlike you.”

“I have,” Scorpius said, thinking about how badly he wished he’d snapped Yann’s wand. “Potter just has it out for me now.”

“Screwing his son didn’t help?” Rabastan asked sarcastically. “Here, we all thought it would help!”

“Aw, don’t blame him,” said Bellatrix. She pinched his cheek, and Scorpius was glad for the opportunity to cringe away organically. “He loved little Sirius Potter. I would hope he’s learned better by now, but we all make mistakes.”

“We all make mistakes,” Scorpius repeated. 

Lucius was regarding him with renewed interest. “You’ve ended things with the Potter boy?”

Scorpius considered all options before saying, “Sirius doesn’t know that, but yes, I have.”

Bellatrix shrieked with laughter and hugged him. Scorpius was deeply uncomfortable and not entirely sure what ‘blood relative’ meant to Bellatrix other than a person whom she should consider giving her loyalties. “A little heartbreaker, this one.”

“Tough to carry on when your lover’s father kills your father,” said Rabastan. “So is he expelled?”

“No, I just have to write an essay on why to let me back in!” Scorpius said. “So I’ll - I’ll go start that now, shall I? Strike while the iron’s suspended.”

Rodolphus snorted then gave Scorpius a weird look like he couldn’t believe Scorpius had used word play, weak though it was. He settled back and said, “Go write your essay, boy.”

Bellatrix stroked his hair and assured him, “I would never let Harry Potter keep you out of Hogwarts, sweetness.” She kissed the top of his head. “But if you want to try this essay first, then I’ll support your industrial spirit.”

“Thank you!” said Scorpius, jumping up from his spot next to Bellatrix. Her affection felt nice and welcome in a way that should have been supplied by his mother or grandmother. However, Bellatrix Lestrange was not his mother or grandmother, and although the Malfoy family was less inbred than Stuart and Ezra had joked, he really couldn’t pinpoint the intention of Bellatrix’s simpering. Better safe than sorry, so they say. “I’ll just - I’ll do write it, shall I?”

“Have the elf watch him,” grunted Rabastan.

Scorpius barely had time to boggle at him before Lucius said, “Dobby.”

The famous Dobby, protector of Harry Potter and his friends, appeared in the middle of the room with a loud crack. He looked at Bellatrix Lestrange as if he didn’t realize that, in another world, she had killed him, then he focused on Scorpius in a way that made him certain that Harry Potter had filled him in before turning back to Lucius and bowing deeply. “What can Dobby do for Master Malfoy, sir?”

“My degenerate son has been temporarily suspended from Hogwarts.” Dobby did not come out of his bow. “He has an essay to write, and you shall oversee his progress and report back to me on his progress each hour.”

“Yes, Master Malfoy, sir,” said Dobby. Still bowing, he turned around to Scorpius. “Where does Master Scorpius Malfoy wish to work on his lesson, sir?”

Scorpius stood up, eager to escape Bellatrix massaging his scalp, which felt more pleasant than he’d want it to. “In my room is fine,” he said quickly before following Dobby to the stairs. He paused at the foot and inclined his head respectfully to the four sentient members of the party before walking upstairs with Dobby.

Scorpius’s room, as with the downstairs, had the same architecture and completely different furniture. The furniture in this room seemed to be modeled after a Hogwarts dorm, which even Scorpius found to be frighteningly sappy. Dobby was down on a small stool by the window and said, “Dobby will observe as Master Scorpius writes as he wishes!”

“Dobby,” Scorpius whispered. “Did Harry - did Harry Potter say anything to you about me?”

Dobby nodded vigorously. “Dobby is to get Master Scorpius anything he asks without reporting back to Master Malfoy. Dobby trusts that Master Scorpius will not punish him for such insubordination.”

“I - I won’t, Dobby. You’re a very good elf,” Scorpius said. Dobby did not react in any way, so he continued, “Do you know if the Malfoys have a time turner?”

Dobby disappeared with a crack, and Scorpius went almost insane in his fear that Dobby had immediately betrayed him to Lucius Malfoy. Instead, more helpful than in Scorpius’s wildest dreams, Dobby reappeared holding a small golden time turner. Scorpius gaped at it, and Dobby extended it out to him. “Harry Potter said that Dobby should help Master Scorpius in all his pursuits, and Dobby is concerned that Master Scorpius is accepting too much power, but Dobby trusts Harry Potter with his life.”

Scorpius accepted the time turner and looped the chain around his neck. He took in a deep breath and said, “Dobby, you are the best elf that ever lived. I need you to do one more thing for me, okay?"

"Dobby lives to serve young Master Malfoy!"

"You don't have to call me that. Can you apparate me back to Hogwarts with you?"

"Dobby can do as young Master Malfoy requests, but Dobby saw Master Malfoy put wards on his collection of dark artifacts after young Master Malfoy and Harry Potter's son stole and then destroyed a time turner. Master Malfoy will be notified the moment that time turner leaves the Manor."

Scorpius considered this information. This time turner appeared to be higher quality than the first one and would probably allow him to linger in the past for longer periods of time, which meant he could theoretically go back in time and then travel to Hogwarts. As much as he hated this reality, he didn't fancy the idea of mucking around in the past too long. He'd certainly mess at least one thing up. "Then I'll act very fast, Dobby. I need to bring it to Hogwarts."

Dobby extended a hand. "Dobby will do as young Master Malfoy requests."

Scorpius took his hand. "I need to go to the edge of the Forbidden Forest."

Being side-alonged by a House-elf was much less sickening than by Scorpius's irate grandfather. Scorpius landed neatly on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest where he and Albus had prepared to tamper with the Triwizard Tournament. Dobby bowed deeply, and Scorpius bowed back, already turning the loops of the time turner back to November 1994.

*

Scorpius and Albus, ignorant to the possible conclusions of their actions, were arguing about who had created the pins taunting Harry Potter. Albus asked for Scorpius to be quiet and let him pay attention to Cedric Diggory’s competition. Hermione Granger walked away from them. Albus attempted to disarm Cedric Diggory, and Scorpius threw up a shield charm in time to stop him. 

He had never, for a second, been concerned that he wouldn’t be able to overpower either Albus or Scorpius from this reality. He had survived so much more than the two of them. He was so much, he realized, more powerful than he had been when he arrived in the alternate reality. He was more powerful than he had been in his entire life. Perhaps not as powerful as the aura emanating from the locket, the kind of power that had kept Harry Potter himself bound to itself for years, but powerful enough that it was going to take a major force to shock him.

And no major force awaited him. Scorpius blocked Albus’s disarming spell for Cedric, saw Albus mope to his Scorpius about his shocking failure, and returned back to 2016. Scorpius landed back in his present with no feeling other than blinding, breathless relief that Albus Potter was in front of him. 


	13. A Dangerous Black Cloud (September 2016)

Time stopped, flipped over, pulled a muscle, realized it needed to stretch more, and deposited Scorpius back in the present. His legs buckled underneath him, and he collapsed to the ground. He took a few deep, settling breaths, too terrified to open his eyes and see whether or not the world had changed around him again. If he was still in front of Dobby or in an even more abysmal version of reality, he would lose all of his remaining hope. 

He raised his eyes slowly at the sound of another person whimpering in pain. Someone was with him. He was curled up in a ball with his back to Scorpius, like Sirius had been, and all Scorpius could see was messy black hair and red Durmstrang robes.

“Albus!” Scorpius shouted, voice cracking in relief as he scrambled to his feet and raced over to grab Albus. Without thinking about his injury, he rolled him over so that Scorpius could look at his face. Albus screamed in pain, and Scorpius beamed down at him and repeated, “Albus!”

Albus, who had no idea how touching this reunion was, bellowed, “WHAT! LOOK AT MY BLOODY ARM, SCORPIUS!”

Scorpius was going to kiss him. He had too many things he needed him to know but neither the words nor the time to tell him. There were a million reasons why it was not the right move for them at the moment, but Scorpius was not thinking especially clearly. The only thing that stopped him was the unmistakable sound of people shouting his and Albus’s names. 

He froze with his face a few inches from Albus’s, and Albus grimaced in discomfort before using his good hand to tuck the time turner into Scorpius’s shirt and sitting up. It took Scorpius a second to remember to move back, but Albus’s immense pain distracted him from Scorpius’s odd behavior. He was so brilliant to think to hide the time turner when he was clearly in agony. Scorpius felt awful for how many times he’d mentally called Albus an idiot over the past few weeks.

The voices calling their names grew clearer and louder, and then Ron Weasley burst out of the trees followed by Scorpius’s dad, Albus’s mum, dad, and brother, Rose, and Rose’s mum. Rose and James ran forward, frantically talking over one another until James noticed the extent of Albus’s injury and shouted, “Mum! He’s hurt!”

Albus’s parents rushed to his side immediately. Scorpius watched Harry Potter produce a splint with his holly wand as he spoke quietly with Ginny over Albus’s head. It was exactly what he needed to see to let himself believe that maybe the world really had been set right. His dad crouched down and extended a hand to him that Scorpius took and held without using it to hoist himself up. His dad gave him a concerned look and whispered, “Scorpius, what happened?”

The words started spilling out of him without a second of thought and only became faster and more jumbled as everyone, even Albus and the rest of the Potters, looked at him with wild alarm. “Albus and I tried to save Cedric Diggory but something went wrong and we accidentally created an alternate reality where Voldemort was alive and you were dead, dad, and Ron and Hermione and Ginny, and Rose and James and Albus never existed, and Cedric was still dead, died in the exact same way. And instead of Albus there was this other boy - Sirius, and we were awful, and Harry was still a horcrux and wore the locket and used the - he destroyed the time turner, and there were dementors everywhere, and I was stuck there for weeks and Sirius would take my wand from me because he didn’t want to stop existing, and Teddy had a brother named James, and I was stuck there until I found Fred and George Weasley in the Shrieking Shack, and Teddy too, and they were hunting horcruxes and had gotten most of them except Fred had guessed it was the Sorting Hat instead of the snake, so they’d killed the Sorting Hat for no reason, and Fred wanted to - he wanted me to tell you how much he loves all of you and how glad he is that you’re alive and that he thought about all of you everyday, and to not run his business into the ground, Ron, and to make sure Percy didn’t stop telling jokes after his death, and to tell George that he - that he made the decision himself, that a reality where every member of his family is still alive is more than he could dream of, and then Harry followed me to the Shrieking Shack, and he took off the locket and let Fred and George destroy it and said I helped save their reality and promised to try to help me find another time turner, and he owled my grandfather - he was headmaster, did I say that? Harry, not my grandfather. He owled Lucius Malfoy to bring me home, and Malfoy Manor was decorated entirely differently, and Bellatrix Lestrange gave me a hug, and Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange were both - they were there too, and then Dobby - he was there, too, as a spy for Harry Potter - found the time turner and apparated me back to Hogwarts, and now I’m here.” Scorpius took a deep breath and then another until he was gasping for air. He had held his father’s hand tightly for his whole recollection, and now his father used his free hand to grab Scorpius’s shoulder and steady him.

There was a long silence, so intense and difficult to break that it felt conjured, in which no one knew how to react to Scorpius dumping all of that on them at once. Then Albus said, “WHAT?” and the silence was lifted.

“Fred and George?” said Ginny softly. 

She shot a look at Ron, who was holding Hermione’s hand so tightly that Scorpius could see his hand shaking; her other hand was covering her mouth in the same action that Rose did when she felt particularly emotional. He said, in a rather tight voice, “Sorting Hat was a pretty good guess, though.”

“You met your grandfather?” Scorpius’s dad asked. “And the Lestranges?”

“Where’s the time turner now?” Harry Potter asked abruptly. He held out his hand. “Or do you plan on bringing back Voldemort a second time?”

“Don’t speak to him like that,” Scorpius’s dad snapped. “He’s gone through a tremendous ordeal.”

Harry Potter’s eyes narrowed, reminding Scorpius of the Harry who had grabbed Sirius’s broken arm. Except he couldn’t be that Harry; he had so carefully conjured a splint for Albus, and if he could be that Harry, then Scorpius could be that Scorpius. “It sounds a bit like it was all his fault though, wasn’t it?”

“No more than it was Albus’s, but Albus didn’t have to spend weeks trapped in a parallel universe trying to set things right, did he?”

“I did not,” Albus breathed.

“That’s if we’re believing that any of the story actually happened,” said Harry. “It could just be a ploy to get out of trouble.”

“You can look at my memories!” said Scorpius. “Maybe not… maybe not all of them, but the important ones!”

James smirked at him knowingly. “What’s in your memories, Scorpius?”

“A lot of filler! It was several weeks.”

Harry stood up and extended his hand. “Where is the time turner, Scorpius?”

“Dad!” said Albus.

“If you turn it over now, we’ll overlook the many laws you’ve broken today.”

“Mum!” shouted Rose. “Do something about him!”

“Harry,” said Hermione. “I know what you think you heard, but this is pushing it a bit far. He’s a scared child, and you don’t have the right to enforce the law anymore.”

“What did you think you heard?” Scorpius’s dad asked.

Scorpius’s breath sped up again, now in a futile effort to tame a sort of uncontrollable rage that he’d never experienced before. If he kept looking at Harry Potter, he was going to do something incredibly stupid, so he forced his gaze down to his feet and turned out his pockets. In a shaking voice, he said, “I don’t know what happened to it.”

“He’s lying,” said Harry. “Why are you lying?”

“Why are you making ridiculous accusations of him?” Scorpius’s dad snapped. “Scorpius wouldn’t lie about this.”

Scorpius raised his eyes just in time to see Harry Potter raise his wand and say,  _ “Accio t—“ _

Scorpius’s heart leapt. Before Harry could get the spell out, Scorpius had shouted,  _ “Expelliarmus!” _ and caught the wand from the air. The moment it was in his hand, all the rage withdrew from Scorpius’s body like the tide rushing back into the ocean, leaving him cold, terrified, and a bit confused. Scorpius stared at the wand in shock then held it out to Harry like it was contagious. James hopped up from Albus’s side to grab the wand for his dad. 

Harry took a deep breath while Scorpius fixed his horrified gaze on the ground. Finally, Albus started to whisper something, and Harry said, without responding to Albus first, “Scorpius, you’re going to stay away from my son from now on.”

“What?” Scorpius said blankly.

“Dad,” said James.

“Both of my sons,” Harry amended, shooting James an annoyed look.

“I knew who you meant, dad, but that’s bloody ridiculous! This is Albus’s best friend, and you pointed your wand at him! What just happened is a sign that you are good at your job.”

“James, don’t,” Ginny whispered. “Not right now.”

“Maybe use your free time to look up what happened to the last people found in possession of an illegal time turner,” Harry advised him. 

“That’s enough,” said Scorpius’s dad. 

“You stay away from him too, Malfoy.” Harry grabbed Albus’s shoulder. “Come on. You need to see Madam Pomfrey.”

“No, dad, what?” Albus pleaded. Between the pain and his dad’s change in demeanor, he was starting to cry, and Scorpius couldn’t look at anything else. “What are you talking about?”

“We’ll talk more later,” he promised. He glanced at Ron and Hermione and said, “Consider my warning,” before leading Albus away, Ginny still holding Albus’s uninjured hand and James trailing behind after shooting Scorpius an apologetic look.

“His warning?” Rose repeated furiously. “What warning?”

“It’s nothing, Rosie,” Ron assured her.

“Excuse me?” Scorpius’s dad asked Ron and Hermione. “How do I stay away from a student in my house? Is Potter going to get me fired?”

“Harry doesn’t have the power to do that,” Hermione assured him. “I think he just - oh, I don’t know. I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through all of this, Scorpius.”

“I put… I put everything right,” Scorpius whispered. “I don’t understand.”

Hermione covered her mouth again, and Rose shoved Scorpius’s dad away from him to have space to hug Scorpius tightly. He hesitated for a moment before wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his wet face in her hair. He could hear the adults whispering furtively, but Rose was making soothing noises and stroking his hair. As long as he clung to her and focused on absolutely nothing other than her, he could still feel the security and relief that he had hoped would be waiting for him in the real world.

Rose didn’t hurry him along or show any impatience whatsoever. Neither of them pulled back until Hermione laid a hand softly on Rose’s shoulder and said, “Rose, sweetheart.”

“A little busy, mum,” Rose said in a thick voice.

“Rose, we’re going to search the area again for the time turner. Would you two mind staying out of the dorms while we finish up?”

Rose took a step back to frown at her mother. “Why should we stay out of the dorms?”

“A lot of commotion that’s best avoided,” said Ron. “We’d love to have Scorpius over for dinner tonight. Rose, you’re invited as well.”

“Oh, really?” Rose asked. “Am I invited to your special dinner with my boyfriend?”

Scorpius looked at his dad. “Are you coming?”

“As much as I would love to taste food made by one of these two, I have some unavoidable commotion to deal with here,” his father said apologetically. He put a hand on Scorpius’s shoulder. “I’ll come find you when you get back, alright? I’d love to hear the extended version of your alternate reality if you’re willing to share it with me.”

“Yes!” Scorpius agreed. “I’ll tell you everything!”

“Great.” His father hesitated then pulled Scorpius into an awkward hug. “I’m so glad to have you back.”

“I was so glad to be back,” Scorpius confided to his father’s chest. 

He felt his arms tighten around him protectively and hold him there for a moment, then his dad took a step back and ran his hands through his hair in the way he only did at his most anxious. He nodded to Ron and Hermione and started to walk off before Scorpius called, “Wait, dad. Could you get a message to Albus for me?”

His dad looked exhausted when he said, “Scorpius, I doubt I’m going to see him.”

“We’ll get it to him, mate,” Ron assured him. “Hermione and I are going to search the area, then we can use the Floo in your dad’s office.”

“Okay,” Scorpius mumbled. “That sounds - yeah, that sounds good. Thank you.”

“Great,” said Ron. “Excellent.”

He felt awful watching Ron and Hermione spread out across the grounds to look for a time turner that was, as Harry had accused, still around Scorpius’s neck. He had lied at first because Albus wanted him to and then realized, now able to identify the emotion that twisted his stomach as jealousy, that Albus only wanted to protect it in order to try to help Delphi again. By the time he decided that he really didn’t want the burden of the time turner, his dad had already jumped in to defend him and it was clear that anything he said would just make Harry Potter even angrier. Now he was going to have dinner with the Granger-Weasleys with the time turner resting against his bare skin with the same air of malevolence as the locket, serving as a constant reminder of Scorpius’s lie, his cruelty in the alternate universe, and the feeling of Albus’s hand tucking the time turner into his shirt. 

He would never be allowed to share his feelings with Albus or even talk to him again, and Scorpius was a coward and manipulator in this reality too because all thoughts of ending his relationship with Rose vanished the moment he realized she was now his only source of friendship and comfort. He did love Rose. He was tremendously attracted to her. He wouldn’t cheat on her now that she existed again. He was kind and supported her in all her endeavors. He was a good boyfriend! Yes, he was a liar. Yes, he might be in love with her cousin. Yes, he had touched another boy’s dick in an alternate reality and had progressed to mouth stuff without her. When put so bluntly, it all sounded rather damning. He couldn’t think of any more defenses other than the idea of losing both her and Albus made him want to die.

Rose took his left hand in her hands and massaged it idly as Scorpius looked out over the grounds, wondering if perhaps even fixing time had done something to change the present, to make Harry Potter hate him in a way he hadn’t before. Everything seemed exactly the same. He sighed and dropped his head down onto Rose’s shoulder, and she let go with one of her hands to reach up and scratch his scalp. 

“You seem different,” Rose told him after the silence had stretched for at least twenty minutes. 

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I feel different.”

“How long were you really gone for?”

“A bit less than a month. Twenty-eight days, exactly. I had my fifteenth birthday there.”

“Wow,” said Rose. “I wish you would have told me that you two hatched this insane plan.”

“It all happened very fast,” Scorpius admitted. “And wasn’t exactly my plan. I really wished you were there, though.”

“Yes, I didn’t want to dig in the knife if you don’t want to talk about it, but a plan this stupid could only come from my cousin. Everyone else on the search thought it was ridiculous that uncle Harry would blame you.”

“No, it actually wasn’t really Albus’s plan either,” Scorpius said. So much had happened that he’d almost entirely forgotten about Delphi’s role in procuring the time turner. She might be somewhere in the forest right now. Albus would probably reach out as soon as his family left him alone. “There was this woman - about Teddy’s age, maybe. Delphi. Albus had met her over the summer. It was her plan. She had the Polyjuice and the hairs. She knew where the time turner was. Albus might think it was his plan, but she was leading him to every conclusion he made.”

Rose pulled back to make an astonished face at Scorpius. “Albus has an eighteen-year-old girlfriend?”

“No, she’s not his girlfriend.” Scorpius hoped he didn’t sound too defensive. 

Fortunately, Rose was too preoccupied with the scandalous gossip to notice if Scorpius was acting strangely about her cousin dating a girl. She looked around the grounds with the same astonished face as if expecting the wind and the grass to agree with her that this was a completely insane revelation. “Albus has a girlfriend! Now I really wish you’d brought me with you.”

“She’s just a random girl.”

“No, no,” said Rose. “Aw, Scorpius. No. If she was able to manipulate him into being that stupid that easily, then there’s something going on there.”

“Hm,” said Scorpius. “I am terrified of what that means for us.”

“Oh, I don’t manipulate you,” said Rose. “You like doing my Potions essays! You carry all my books even to classes we don’t share together for your sake, not mine.”

“I do need to stop doing that,” Scorpius told her. “I missed a lot of Charms last semester. I’ll still do your Potions, though. I do actually enjoy that. It’s really fun and challenging to come up with two different solutions to the same problem, you know? I have to put myself in your mindset and then approach the same problem.”

Rose grinned at him. “Maybe you do actually like doing my Potions essays.”

“I like carrying your books for you too! But if you showed up one day with a plan to get a time turner and asked me to completely rewrite history, I would not be so easily manipulated.”

“Really? Because you did exactly that for Albus.”

“I would not be so easily manipulated for a second time,” Scorpius corrected himself. 

Rose’s confidence was truly a gift because she was not considering even for a second that she should feel threatened by her cousin. “Well, Albus failed, and the time turner is gone, so either she was using him, and we’ll never hear from her again, or she genuinely likes him and won’t mind that Albus won’t be able to help her rewrite history. I personally would love to meet the kind of eighteen-year-old girl who would have an interest in Albus. I bet she’s tragic.”

“She was pretty,” Scorpius protested.

“I’m sure she was, to get him to do that! And Albus isn’t all bad. I mean, he’s decently good-looking if height isn’t a concern, and he’s a Potter, which to most girls just translates to ‘rich and famous’. I just think that for an older woman to be interested in him, she’s probably either gold-digging or maybe a bit too simple for people her own age.”

“She seemed rather clever besides the obvious flaws in her plan.”

“Gold-digger, then,” said Rose with certainty. She scrunched up her nose sympathetically. “Aw, maybe I should tell him. I don’t want some older woman taking advantage of him.”

“No! No, I think that… I think that it’s probably fine,” Scorpius assured her. “I think that Albus will be more upset if it seems like we’ve been discussing this behind his back.”

“Fair enough,” said Rose. “I’ll wait until I meet her and then make my judgment.”

Scorpius put a hand on his heart. “Waiting until you actually meet someone to make a judgment about their character? Whoever taught you such a valuable life lesson?”

Rose snickered. “How many times do I have to admit that I made a mistake?”

“At least once would be nice, I think.”

“Rose, Scorpius,” Ron called as he jogged up to join them. “We’re not finding anything, and it’s getting dark. If it’s here, then it’s been enchanted so that summoning charms won’t work on it. Let’s just go home and get some takeout.”

Scorpius felt terrible that Lucius Malfoy’s defensive charms on the time turner came as a relief but had been very foolish not to think that they would be using summoning charms as they scoured the grounds. It was probably necessary for someone to try a summoning charm anyway so that Scorpius’s disproportionate reaction to Harry Potter’s charm could be construed as instinctive self-defense rather than a need to protect his lie. 

Everyone was still in the Great Hall for the feast when they entered the castle to use his dad’s Floo. Scorpius wondered if Albus and James had returned to the feast after Albus’s arm was mended or if he’d have to stay in the Hospital Wing overnight. He had been hoping to find his dad in his office, but he was elsewhere. His desk had a few crumpled notes on it, and without considering the invasion of his privacy, Scorpius reached out to turn over a piece of parchment that said,  _ I’ll be there in the hour. Do NOT do anything stupid. - Blaise. _

He reached for another, and Hermione cleared her throat. “Does your dad usually allow you to read his private correspondence?”

Scorpius dropped it quickly. “No! Sorry. I just - I guess I just got in the habit of trying to collect all the clues available. I wasn’t thinking. Sorry.” 

“You don’t need to apologize to me,” she told him gently. “I think when you see your dad, he’ll tell you everything there is to know, but give him that chance first.”

Rose took his hand and led him to the fireplace. She put some Floo powder in his hand and grinned at him mockingly. “Remember to say it clearly - Wiversham Manor.”

“Wi - ver - sham Ma - nor,” Ron enunciated for him. 

Scorpius choked. “Did you actually have your house registered as that with the Floo Network Authority?”

“Some kid that visited us over the summer pointed out that all great houses should have names,” Ron said. “So we named it.”

Scorpius looked into the fire warily, and Rose declared, “He doesn’t believe us. I’ll go first.”

She marched into the fire, threw down the Floo powder, and shouted, “Wiversham Manor!”

Scorpius gaped at the empty fireplace. He had made the simple mistake of asking Rose and her dad whether or not their house had a name that he could say in the Floo, inspiring about two hours of Rose, Hugo, and Ron trying to come up with the most pretentious names imaginable for their garden house. He looked back at Ron, who along with his wife was regarding him with an intentionally somber expression, then said, “Fine, but if I end up in the house of a wealthy spinster who wants her adoptive daughter to break my heart, then it will be all your fault.”

“If that happens, it is not our intent,” Hermione told him seriously.

Scorpius scowled at them once more then shouted, “Wiversham Manor!”

Rose was waiting for him in front of the fireplace and took a step back as he scrambled up. He looked around to take in the exposed brick, floor-to-ceiling windows, and one living wall of the Granger-Weasley front room. Rose grinned at him, and Scorpius said, “You actually named your house after me.”

“We named our house after pretentious people who name their houses,” Rose fired back.

Scorpius beamed at her and grabbed her hand to pull her against his chest. She tilted her face up to kiss him, gripping onto his waist as he used one hand to hold the back of her neck and the other to hold her hip bone and keep her pressed tightly against him. She made a pleased noise, probably attributing his newfound aggression to eagerness rather than increased experience, and hyperextended her back to accommodate the pressure while pushing her hips forward more forcefully.

“Honestly!” said Hermione. “It’s as if you didn’t realize that we would also be arriving home in the exact same spot!”

Scorpius jumped back from Rose, blushing furiously. Rose, on the other hand, just looked smug and a little mocking, which really just made Scorpius want to snog her more. Hermione glared at her daughter, flicked her eyes over to Scorpius, then looked up at the ceiling in a long-suffering way. “Scorpius, go to the bathroom before Ron arrives. No, Rose, you stay here. You are not invited to go with him.”

Scorpius hurried away as Rose complained, “Scorpius would invite me!”

“Yes, Rose, I’m sure he would,” he heard Hermione say as he opened the door. “That’s enough from you. Do you want to choose where we’ll get dinner from?”

The inside of the bathroom was magically soundproofed. Scorpius splashed some cold water on his face then leaned against the basin of the sink while he waited to reach a state that would not make Ron Weasley want to murder him or, worse, revoke his approval of their relationship. Scorpius glanced down and realized for the first time that day that he was still wearing his robes from the alternate universe. No one had pointed it out to him. They still looked so dreary but had seemed like an oppressive symbol of the evil of the other world. They were, in retrospect, really just clothes.

He took a deep breath, double-checked to make sure his robes were falling correctly, and rejoined Rose and her parents at the counter where they were scrolling through some kind of touch-screen, light-up tablet that both confused and frightened Scorpius although, as far as he had witnessed, the tablet was used only for ordering food and making the bigger (but not touchable) screen play muggle movies, thereby making it a universally positive part of their lives.

Hermione placed the order from their preferred vegetarian Thai restaurant that somehow always required at least ten minutes of debate to decide on although Scorpius had never seen them order from another restaurant. They settled on the couches around the big screen, Rose’s parents on one and Rose and Scorpius on the other. 

It occurred to him, as the four of them talked together, that his ultimate goal of marrying Rose Granger-Weasley felt less like a joke than it ever had before. Mistakes aside, he loved her, and her parents welcomed him into the family despite the rumors or the disapproval of their best friend. Albus’s dad had accused him of making up the alternate reality and lying about the time turner, and Rose’s dad had registered their house in the Floo Network based on an inside joke with them and Scorpius.

Neither Ron nor Hermione seemed openly annoyed when Rose curled up against his side and nudged him to wrap his arm around her. They were all so easy to talk to, sharing stories about their own fourth year at Hogwarts so that Scorpius didn’t feel pressed to open up. When they got to the First Task, Hermione choked on her noodles and had to be whacked on the back by Ron several times when she realized that the two Durmstrang boys she’d spoken to had been Scorpius and Albus. 

Scorpius took the opportunity to share his experience in the other world in greater depth, which translated to everything other than his strange relationship with Sirius Potter. The Granger-Weasleys had done a very admirable job of acting like they didn’t mind if Scorpius didn’t feel comfortable sharing when they were clearly mesmerized by every word he said. When he relayed Fred’s account that Hermione had drowned in the Forest of Dean because Ron had never returned to the group, Ron made the same kind of odd noise, like a singular choked sob, as Fred had, and Scorpius froze.

“I can stop,” Scorpius said.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Ron assured him. “It’s just difficult to think that those other people that you met and heard about, that they’re still us. I mean, what’s the difference? One disarming spell, and then everything is different?”

“I understand,” said Scorpius. “You should have heard the way everyone talked about me in that world. Fitz Wood genuinely wanted to see me die as one of his great joys in life, and I trust Fitz’s judgment of character. The Scorpius in that reality was horrible, and I’m the exact same person.”

“That’s not true,” said Hermione. “Your upbringing would have been completely different, being surrounded by your grandfather and extended family instead of just your dad. If anything, based on the way you described the other Scorpius, it sounds like you were… well, that is, like you were—” 

“Exactly what your grandfather and the rest of the family wanted your dad to be,” Ron finished for her charitably. At Scorpius’s troubled look, he continued, “Your dad was - he was a right git during school, Scorpius. You saw the pins. And he took the mark, he espoused all of the traditional Malfoy ideas, but ultimately, he kept making these mistakes because he was too emotional for his father or not as inclined to the dark arts as his aunt. The fact that everyone treated him like a failure even though he kept trying so hard is probably what pushed him to our side in the end.”

“You didn’t get to meet him in that reality, but I would bet that a big part of your identity was just being better than you thought he was,” Hermione said. “That was clearly - I mean, Sirius doing the fire-whip and the nonverbal spells everyday. I would guess that was probably the thing that you two did together, try to be better than your dads. And your concept of ‘better’ was developed from the world around you.” 

“That makes sense,” Scorpius mumbled. “It just seemed like I did horrible things and actually enjoyed them.”

Rose, who had been quietly absorbing the whole conversation thus far, pulled her head up from his shoulder to give him a serious look. “You can’t know if you actually enjoyed doing any of that. The people there could tell you the things that you did, but no one would have known how you felt about it other than you. It sounds like you still really loved your dad if you were trying to use the time turner to save his life, and your alternate Albus must have loved you to do that with you.”

“We were trying to save Dumbledore,” Scorpius told her.

Rose gave him a skeptical look. “Is that how Sirius framed it? It sounded to me like you were trying to stop the Elder Wand from ever going to your dad.”

“I don’t think Sirius knew about the Elder Wand,” Scorpius said, trying hard to remember any references that might have come up in conversation. “I don’t think he ever said what our plan had actually been. I guess it doesn’t really matter now.”

“Either way, stealing a time turner to go save someone good that you never met may be unbelievably stupid, but it isn’t evil,” Rose said. “I think that the rumors of how terrible the Scorpion King was probably took on a life of their own just like the Voldemort rumors in this reality, except alternate Scorpius had different priorities and decided to embrace them and feed into them.”

A wave of affection crashed over Scorpius, and he whispered, “That’s a very nice explanation.”

“It’s probably right,” Rose said dismissively then kissed him lightly on the cheek. She looked back at her parents. “Can we watch a movie before we have to go back? Oh! Can we sleep over here and go back tomorrow?”

She and Scorpius attempted to dazzle her parents with their most innocent, angelic smiles, which neither of them ever really expected to sway Rose’s parents. Ron narrowed his eyes at Scorpius and asked, “You want to sleep in Hugo’s room then?”

“That would be lovely,” Scorpius said.

“Yes, we can work with that,” Rose agreed.

Ron frowned and looked to Hermione to rescue him. She stroked his hair soothingly and said, “No sleepovers. You can watch a single episode of a television show with all the living room lights turned on.”

Rose beamed at her and snuggled more deliberately into Scorpius. Ron whispered something to her, and Hermione amended, “The lights will be turned down - for our sake, not yours,” before tossing the muggle wand to Rose to control the television screen. “We will be having a drink on the patio. Wise freedom, Rose.”

“Wise freedom, mum!” Rose called cheerfully as she started to wield the muggle wand with practiced skill. What a truly talented young lady. She never ceased to amaze him.

“She’s shameless, honestly,” Hermione whispered to Ron as they stood up together.

“Don’t forget I can read minds, Scorpius!” Ron said with a threatening point at Scorpius, who promptly spilled his Butterbeer on himself in alarm.

“Right you are, sir!”

Rose struggled to contain her hilarity as she said, “Oh, Scorpius, now your shirt is all—“

Ron and Hermione both hit his chest with cleaning and drying charms so forcefully that he was actually pushed back into the couch as Rose roared with laughter. Hermione gave Rose an exasperated look, and Ron muttered someone to her darkly as they left to sit on the patio.

They spent about fifteen minutes picking out a show and then another forty minutes not watching the show at all. Scorpius was so relieved to be back and so grateful to be here in the Granger-Weasley living room. It was so easy to feel good with Rose around. They were both smiling and giggling incessantly when the time came to Floo back into Professor McGonagall’s office, which was the only Floo that was open to incoming passengers. Rose’s parents gave him the kind of goodbyes that let him know loud and clear that his and Rose’s behavior would not have been tolerated on any other day, and Scorpius thanked them profusely until Rose pushed him into the fireplace.

It was already quite late by the time Rose and Scorpius arrived in the Headmistress’s office and, although the office did not look as if she had finished work for the day, she was not there. All of the portraits, other than the portrait of Albus Dumbledore which remained characteristically empty, fell silent the moment Scorpius stumbled out of the fire, and Scorpius stared back at them until Rose fell out of the fireplace and grabbed onto his back. 

“Don’t let the portraits stare you down,” she advised him. She glared around the room to prove her point.

“Where’s Professor McGonagall?” Scorpius asked.

“Dealing with the obvious conclusion of employing two schoolhood enemies neither of whom can look beyond their own egos,” said the portrait of Severus Snape. “Run along now. You’re both due in your dorms an hour ago.”

“Is my dad in his office?”

“Make this a bit easier on your father, boy,” said the portrait of Phineas Nigellus. “Go to your dorm and stay there.”

“Scorpius didn’t do anything wrong,” Rose snapped. “It’s not his fault if Professor Potter is going insane.“

_ “Scorpius _ used an illegal time turner that was already responsible for the death of his grandfather,” Phineas Nigellus sneered.

“Phineas, don’t argue with children,” said the portrait of Severus Snape. “If you care at all about mitigating the irreparable damage that you have done to your father’s reputation, then you will go to your dormitory and stay there until classes.”

“To Professor Malfoy’s reputation?” Rose asked. “It wasn’t exactly sparkling to begin with.”

“Come on, Rose,” Scorpius said. “Maybe they’ll know something more in the dorms.”

Rose huffed and followed Scorpius out of the Headmistress’s Office. The corridors were all completely empty, and Rose looked around with a repulsed expression then said, “Isn’t it odd to realize that in his office somewhere, my uncle is probably staring at us as little dots on a map?”

“I really hadn’t thought about it like that, Rose, but yes, that sounds awful when you say it like that.”

They stopped in front of the stairs that would lead them in the opposite directions of Gryffindor tower and Slytherin dungeon. Rose smiled at him sadly and offered, “I’ve always wanted to sneak into the Slytherin dorms if you want company.”

“I probably shouldn’t break any more rules for the foreseeable future,” said Scorpius. “Besides, I should really talk to Albus.”

Rose’s face fell. “Oh, Scorpius, I don’t think… Okay, good luck.” 

She gave him a quick kiss before running up the stairs three at a time in the direction of the Gryffindor dormitories. Scorpius watched her go until she’d turned and disappeared from his sight then sprinted off in the direction of the Slytherin dormitories. 

The common room was eerily empty, but there were people talking in hushed, urgent voices in the boys’ dorm. At least someone would be awake to help answer his questions. Everyone fell silent the moment Scorpius walked in. Ezra offered him a shaky smile and said, “Scorpius. Good to see you again.”

Scorpius looked over the dorm. His trunk had found its way from the Hogwarts Express to the dorm on its own, but Albus’s bed was completely empty, and he was nowhere to be seen. Scorpius felt a sinking feeling, already sure he knew the answer when he asked, “Where’s Albus?”

“Not here,” Ezra reported grimly. Scorpius noted that Stuart was pointedly avoiding his eyes while Emmanuel stared at him with unabashed interest. Scorpius frowned and looked to Emmanuel for more information.

“His dad moved him out of the dorm,” Emmanuel added. “We don’t know where he’s staying. Ezra thinks he’d move him home or into Potter’s empty professor quarters. Stu said Room of Requirement. I’d guess he’s probably with the Gryffindors, for socialization and all.”

Scorpius flinched at the very idea. “Albus can’t live with the Gryffindors! The Gryffindors hate him! They hate him more than—“

“More than we do, yeah,” Stuart finished for him. 

“I don’t hate Albus,” Ezra said. “He is a lot though.”

“Too much,” Emmanuel said. “He thinks his life is so hard because his dad is the Chosen One and sometimes his spells don’t work? The kid has no self-awareness whatsoever. He’s as dramatic and excessive as his dad.”

“What did Professor Potter do?” Scorpius asked.

Stuart, Ezra, and Emmanuel all exchanged knowing looks before Emmanuel, who seemed to view it as his duty in life to break hard truths that probably should have been kept secret for the good of all involved, said, “Well, he appeared to want Albus to stay here.” The truth had to be terrible if even Emmanuel Burke was hesitant to share it. “And you to go.”

“Oh.”

“And your dad got really mad,” Emmanuel continued.

Scorpius was confused. “Did my dad say something? How do you have this information?”

“The argument happened in Professor Malfoy’s office,” Ezra admitted. “We used Extendable Ears, but honestly we didn’t need it for most of the fight.”

“It was really unprofessional,” Stuart said. “Your dad is lucky we like him because we could easily get either of them fired. Definitely your dad, at least. Realistically, Professor Potter is pretty damn likely to come after Professor Malfoy’s job without our help.”

“There was a real fight?” Scorpius clarified.

“Oof,” said Ezra. “Was there a real fight.”

Stuart rubbed his temples, and Emmanuel smiled slowly like the memory was very pleasant for him.

Scorpius’s pulse was thundering. He should probably sit down but couldn’t make his body move. “Ezra, I want to hear it from you.”

Emmanuel burst out laughing. Stuart mumbled, “Good choice.”

Ezra sighed and nodded. “Fair enough. From what we could gather, and we did overhear almost all of it, Professor Potter demanded you be moved into isolation for the safety of the other students. Your dad flipped an absolute shit and said that he would make decisions regarding the Slytherin dorms and that, if Albus had a problem with his housing, then Albus had to be the one to move. Then it just devolved and got really personal really fast. They were both insulting each other’s dead parents and bringing up all this stuff from when they were teenagers - it was really embarrassing for them. They’re, like, fifty. Apparently Professor Potter sliced your dad open in a bathroom and killed his godfather by being bad at Occlumency. And your dad almost killed a bunch of people and let Death Eaters into Hogwarts and worked for Dolores Umbridge and was basically a total cunt for sixteen years before he realized he was a useless little bitch and just started crying and hating himself all the time - I’m paraphrasing, but honestly not that much.”

“Oh!” Stuart said. “He also said that if he had once offered to be friends with your dad that he would have - how did he word it? Shit his pants at the opportunity?”

“Shit his pants at the opportunity, yes,” Emmanuel confirmed. 

“Then your dad went for Albus, which really got Professor Potter going even though he was there because he was accusing you of being evil, so the hypocrisy is difficult for me to wrap my head around. He said Professor Potter was even moodier than Albus, and it was clearly his fault that Albus turned out so whiny and self-centered and generally annoying because Albus is just a collection of all of Professor Potter’s worst traits. Called him a brat, dramatic, self-indulgent, a whole bunch of stuff. Nothing particularly dishonest.”

“Oh, and weak,” added Emmanuel. “He really dug into Albus’s magical failures. He said that he inflated all of Albus’s marks because he pitied him and that Slytherin Squib was a much more accurate name than Son of Voldemort.”

Scorpius was about to cry. “My dad loves Albus.” He was struck by the horrible realization that Albus, wherever he’d been, might have been able to hear the fight if his emotional and magical regulation was out of control. He might even be hearing them recapping right now. Albus had said that Scorpius’s dad was the only person who’d never uttered a bad word about him since he’d started at Hogwarts. 

“I don’t think they were really thinking about their actual feelings at that point. They were just trying to hit as hard as they could, so then Professor Potter went after you, and - do you want to hear that part? Honestly, your dad shredded Albus way more and more accurately than Professor Potter could come up with about you.”

“He didn’t really believe the things he said about Albus,” Scorpius said firmly, somewhat worried that Albus could hear them.

“He came up with it very easily,” Stuart said. 

“It’s not hard to insult Albus,” Emmanuel pointed out. “He could have just been repeating all the stuff he’s heard everyone else say.” 

Scorpius frowned. “What did Professor Potter say about me?”

“Well, that you’re a bad influence and are responsible for Albus being miserable,” said Ezra slowly. “He said that you are on, um, two different spectrums.”

Emmanuel snorted at the memory. Scorpius shot him a wounded look, and Emmanuel’s sympathetic smile just made him look even more taunting. “Sorry, Scorpius. It’s just a very good burn for you. I was shocked I never came up with it myself.”

“Which, um… which is the second spectrum he’s referencing?” Scorpius asked.

Stuart smiled at him slowly. “Which do you think the first one is?”

“I thought that part was especially inappropriate,” Ezra said. “Professor Potter really blew a fuse, talking about a student like that. Emmanuel shouldn’t be wishing he came up with one of a professor’s insults first.”

“What was that?” Emmanuel asked. “Do you mean Floos? You’re not using that phrase right.”

Stuart shrugged. “Must be Muggle nonsense.”

“Then your dad hexed him - is that what precipitated the first blow?” Ezra looked at Stuart and Emmanuel for confirmation.

“Potter started saying something about Scorpius’s dad’s fascination with him - we all know where that was going, obviously, but then Professor Malfoy cut him off with a nasty hex,” Emmanuel said. “It was a nasty, nasty fight. I think I learned some new spells from it. They both crossed a ton of lines, and I’d bet your dad’s office is basically just a crater.”

Scorpius sat down without paying much attention to whether or not he made it onto his mattress. He was forced to grab a post and pull himself onto it more securely. “What did they use?”

Ezra made a face. “That - I’m not sure if you want to hear.”

“It was mostly nonverbal stuff anyway,” said Stuart. “But Harry Potter… er, he  _ screamed.” _

Scorpius looked at him blankly. “He screamed his nonverbal spells?”

“No,” Stuart said slowly. “Your dad hit him with a spell that made him really scream for just a second. Then I think your dad got his shit together, but… I personally can only think of one spell that would make someone as powerful as Harry Potter make a noise like that.”

“He also tried to use Legilimency,” Ezra said. “That was the only incantation I recognized. I think it worked because there was a silence for a bit afterwards.”

“Definitely worked,” agreed Stuart. Everyone was speaking really quickly and starting to cut each other off now. “Because then your dad yelled, ‘THE BLOODY CENTAURS?’”

“‘ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?’” Emmanuel added. He had seemed upset for Scorpius’s sake, but now he was smiling fondly at the memories. 

“You think my dad used an Unforgivable Curse on Harry Potter?” Scorpius whispered hoarsely.

“In Professor Malfoy’s defense, it wasn’t like Harry Potter was using super above-the-board spells either. It was just typical Gryffindor shit, all of his spells had better PR.” Stuart frowned. “The fight basically ended after that. Professor Potter said he wished he’d let your dad go to Azkaban, and your dad said he wished he’d let Professor Potter die when he had the chance, and Professor Potter said ‘likewise’. And then Professor Potter said he was going to get the Ministry to open an investigation on your birth and also maybe your mum’s death and grandfather’s dark artifacts collection, and your dad tried to kick Albus out of Slytherin, which I don’t think he has the power to do, but he said it was what Potter wanted anyway.” He breathed out slowly. “Wild stuff. No one would believe us if we told them; we were just discussing going to the paper but have decided not to. Harry Potter’s gone insane.”

“Okay, don’t be biased,” Ezra said. “Professor Malfoy exacerbated the fight at every opportunity. I didn’t think you could even make it to that age and be so immature.”

Scorpius jumped up. “I need to talk to Albus.”

Stuart, Ezra, and Emmanuel exchanged wary looks. Ezra looked as if he was tensing to jump up and wrestle Scorpius down if he made any sudden movements to escape the dorm and find Albus.

“Oh, mate,” said Stuart. “You really, really should not do that right now.”

“Yeah, you’ve got to stay as far away from him as possible,” Emmanuel said, looking uncharacteristically sympathetic. “The most powerful wizard alive is about to snap, and you and your dad are his targets.”

Ezra grinded his teeth furiously. “I can’t believe it. Scorpius is fifteen years old!”

“Voldemort tried to kill Potter when he was way younger,” Stuart argued.

“Voldemort is not a metric of what’s appropriate, and Harry Potter knows that more than we do!” Ezra alone seemed angry, at both Scorpius’s dad and Professor Potter. He must have expected better of them. “I know this is a lot, Scorpius. I’d be freaking out, but if it’s any consolation, we’re all on your side. Voldemort’s son or not.”

“I’d actually prefer if you were Voldemort’s son,” Emmanuel said. “Just because it’s an interesting story. Not because I’m a blood supremacist. I think it’s ridiculous to assume that you having a different father than previously thought would make you a different person. You’re just Scorpius, Riddle or Malfoy, and we know Scorpius.”

The sentiment shocked Scorpius back into a mindset approaching rationality. At the very least, it gave him time to slow down and consider the situation more carefully before running off to make things worse for his dad. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Emmanuel.”

“Yeah, you’ve been through a lot today,” Emmanuel admitted. “I figured now is as good a time as any to admit that I do actually like and respect you as a person.”

“Me too,” Stuart mumbled. “If I’d known you were getting bullied by Harry Potter himself, I would have laid off a while ago.”

“I never bullied you to begin with,” Ezra said, and Scorpius smiled at him warmly. 

Scorpius shut his eyes for a moment as he collected his thoughts. Finally, he said, “I’m not going to go cause trouble or break any more rules, but I am going to go find my dad.”

“Okay, but you leaving the dorm would be breaking the rules,” called Stuart as Scorpius jumped up to run down to the common room. 

The common room was no longer empty. Scorpius stopped in his tracks as Blaise Zabini set down his book and inspected Scorpius. “So this is the uniform from the other universe? Fascinating.”

“Where’s my dad, Blaise?”

“He’s a bit busy right now,” Blaise said, sounding colder than Scorpius had ever heard him. “The Minister informed us that you would be back by now, so I’ve come by to make sure you don’t go running off to make things worse.”

“Hermione is here? I just saw her.”

“Well, now she’s joined the divorce negotiations.” 

“Divorce negotiations?”

“I’m being dramatic,” said Blaise. 

“Please, if you’re here to tell me what’s going on, then tell me what’s going on,” Scorpius begged.

“I’m actually not here to tell you what’s going on. I’m here because the Malfoy family’s reputation is once again in dire straits, and as I do consider myself to be a part of that family, I have taken it upon myself to make sure that no more damage is done today.”

“Blaise, please.”

Blaise frowned at him. “Well, as far as any legal action is concerned, there is no way to prove that you’ve broken any laws that Albus Severus did not also break, so you’re in the clear there. In terms of the fight that your classmates were just describing, your dad made a grave mistake, but Harry Potter has that strange Gryffindor sense of honor that precludes him from having your father sent to Azkaban just for using the wrong spell with no serious consequences, especially a spell that Harry Potter has used himself in the past. Personally, if I were Potter, I’d use it to have him shipped off to Azkaban if he wants it so badly, but he didn’t even bring it up in the meeting. Your dad is very lucky that the only students to overhear the fight were your classmates. Once again, it’s an easily fireable offense, but your dad did not technically break any rules that Harry Potter did not also break. The Minister wants the whole thing to be settled amicably tonight, and Professor McGonagall is disgusted with both of them, but realistically, they both work here because there were no better options for their jobs.”

“So everything is… fine?” Scorpius said, sitting down on a couch across from Blaise and feeling oddly hopeful.

“In a way!” said Blaise with fake enthusiasm. “Consider that you and your dad both broke several laws and school rules, and you’ll get to stay at Hogwarts, and he can keep his job here. All Harry Potter wants in return is that you never so much as look at his son again. I can’t say I understand his logic, but that’s a damn good deal for you.”

“But he’s in my house. My dad teaches him. We can’t just never overlap!”

“That’s what the meeting is to sort out, yes.”

“My dad, Professor McGonagall, Harry Potter, and the Minister of Magic are all in a late-night meeting to discuss how I’m going to be kept away from Albus?”

“And Professor Longbottom, Ginny Weasley, Horace Slughorn, and Millicent Bulstrode for moral support.”

“Horace Slughorn?” Scorpius repeated. “Why - oh, so my dad doesn’t have to teach him anymore?”

Blaise scrunched up his face sympathetically and nodded. “I think Albus is going to be getting private tutoring from Sluggy from now on, and believe me… you are the lucky one in this situation.” He paused and said, “I never thought I’d say this about a Potter, but honestly, poor kid.”

“And Professor Longbottom? Is he  _ switching houses? _ I was unaware that was a thing that could be done.”

“We were unaware people could survive the Killing Curse before Harry Potter, but he did it twice. If anyone is going to be able to change a rule that has been in place for a millennium, it is Harry Potter. It is possible that Albus will just stay a Slytherin and sleep elsewhere. This is all very unprecedented.”

“And who will teach me Defense?”

“Still Potter, most likely. He’s not concerned about your effect on him.”

“Can I do private tutoring too? With my dad?”

“Yes, Scorpius, I will give permission for that because I am clearly the person whose permission matters. Your only job from now on is to rock the boat as little as possible, so if Professor Potter allows you to stay in his class, you will stay in his class, speak as little as possible, and do all of your work well and on time.”

Scorpius nodded gloomily. “I can do that.”

Blaise leaned forward and put a hand on his knee in what he seemed to hope was a comforting manner. “This brings me to my main reason for being here, Scorpius. If all you need to do to keep your family out of trouble is to stay away from Albus Severus Potter, then you  _ need _ to stay away from Albus Severus Potter. That means no final conversations, nothing. Albus might try to break the rules and reach out to you, and you absolutely cannot respond. You have much more at stake here than Albus does, and forgive me, I know you care for him very much, but it does not appear that seeing situations from your unique perspective is a strong suit of Albus’s. I do not trust him to understand what exactly Harry Potter’s ire could mean for you or your father.”

“I think Albus cares about that much more than you realize,” Scorpius said, even though it wasn’t exactly honest as Albus’s lack of concern for Scorpius’s objections was what landed him in this situation. He hoped that Albus’s Occlumency practice was helping him tune out what must have been an entire castle full of conversations about him, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Albus was somewhere by himself going crazy under the stress of everybody talking about him and what he and Scorpius had done. “But yes, I do understand.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” said Blaise. He switched couches to sit next to Scorpius, no longer attempting to be comforting. In a low, threatening voice, he said, “And one last thing, Scorpius:  _ If _ you did save the time turner, it is your job now to destroy it. Do not try to use it again. Do not tell anyone you have it. Destroy it, and pretend you’ve been telling the truth since the start.”

“I didn’t save the time turner,” Scorpius lied.

“Good,” said Blaise, giving him a look that suggested he was completely unconvinced. “Then there’s no problem.”

Scorpius swallowed thickly and nodded, feeling both weepy and so exhausted that it was becoming difficult to process thoughts into words. Blaise sighed and stood up to help him to his feet. Scorpius stumbled into his now-quiet dormitory and collapsed onto his unmade bed, his last conscious thought before falling asleep wondering where Albus was sleeping tonight.


	14. Rebirth the Dark (January 2017)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "My initial reaction was, 'Wow, puberty hit Hogwarts hard.'"  
> Source: https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/stephaniemcneal/in-hindsight-its-so-clear#.swDWmZr5e
> 
> Also, I lied, and this chapter also contains a full scene of dialogue from Cursed Child, but after this, no more! Probably.

Scorpius was going insane, both literally and figuratively. Figuratively because he hadn’t, as Blaise had warned him, so much as looked at Albus since he got back from the alternate reality, and it wasn’t getting any easier as the days turned into weeks turned into months. Albus had switched to the Gryffindor class schedule, which Rose reported was not treating him especially well, but Scorpius did not ask for any more information. His dad had attempted to rearrange the entire schedule to keep Slytherin and Gryffindor apart, but Professor Longbottom had put his foot down that the school timetables would remain unchanged. That meant that, although Albus had switched to private tutoring with Professor Slughorn for Potions, they still shared Herbology and Defense Against the Dark Arts together.

The Gryffindors did not appear to be excited about the new addition to their house, but everyone knew to take the path of least resistance with a very determined and frankly quite frightening Harry Potter. From what Scorpius had gathered during their two shared classes, Rose was taking it upon herself to play the role of the mediator between both Albus and Scorpius and Albus and the other Gryffindors. When the Slytherins weren’t around, Rose would stick to Albus like a barnacle in case he needed defense from the other Gryffindors. When they shared a class with the Slytherins, the other Slytherin boys would avoid Scorpius and suck up to Albus in an attempt to curry Professor Potter’s favor, and Rose would stick by Scorpius and glare daggers at anyone who looked at him sideways.

Ezra, the only Slytherin to have had real conversations with Albus apart from partnering up during some Defense demonstrations or Herbology lessons, claimed that Albus was incredibly sick of Rose’s help, which she was not giving him the option of refusing. She had enlisted all her friends and the extended Weasley family in making sure Albus was never left alone. She would probably do it herself except that Rose and Scorpius had progressed their relationship in a big way on Rose’s fifteenth birthday, and they were on a very important quest to discover every location on the Hogwarts grounds where they could find enough privacy without technically breaking any rules or appearing suspicious in case anyone happened to be watching them as tiny dots on a map.

Albus’s big complaint, Ezra explained to Scorpius with a rather meaningful expression, was not just that Rose was entirely suffocating him but also that he didn’t think Rose had taken such personal responsibility for him because he was her cousin. Scorpius struggled to figure out what to think about this information or why Ezra chose to share the information that he did. His odd feelings were only intensified by the fact that he had only even made eye contact with Albus three times during the entirety of first semester, and they were all either incredibly opportune or inopportune depending on what mood Scorpius was in at the moment and how spiteful he felt about Albus’s role in the time turner adventure.

The first occasion was rather early into what Blaise had described as “the divorce.” On the first morning after Scorpius had returned from the alternate reality, Albus had been sitting miserably at the Gryffindor table with James and Lily on either side of him, both looking furious and powerless to change the situation. Rose had been craning her neck to find Scorpius entering the Great Hall with the Slytherins. The moment he’d set foot in the Hall, Rose had jumped up and barreled into Scorpius’s chest. She had apparently no respect whatsoever for Harry Potter’s advice for her parents and had grabbed Scorpius’s face with both hands and rattled off most of the same information Blaise had given him with some updated facts and more details from the Gryffindor perspective. Scorpius had made the mistake of glancing over at Albus, whose eyes kept flicking back and forth between his porridge and Scorpius. Scorpius had met and held his eyes for a second before Rose had forcibly grabbed his face and redirected it towards her.

The second also involved Rose because, truly, she was almost never seen without either Scorpius or Albus around. Scorpius wouldn’t have it any other way as she was both his lone source of joy and a security blanket against the huge boost to the Voldemort’s son rumors that had come from Harry Potter’s unwavering disapproval. He couldn’t believe that there was a time when they had both considered her to be mean, when Albus would rant for an hour about her total lack of loyalty to him in the face of the Gryffindors’ ridicule. Scorpius could see how, after those three years of experience with his cousin before she started dating his best friend, he might be able to convince himself that she wasn’t trying to help him now because of their blood. Rose never said anything of the kind to Scorpius, but the idea that she wanted to make his life easier because Scorpius loved him and couldn’t help him himself was so sweet that it gave Scorpius crippling anxiety.

Scorpius and Rose had very carefully worked out in which classes they could be a sickening couple. In Potions, they mutually agreed to be quiet and follow every rule to the letter in case another student tried to get Scorpius’s dad in trouble. In Defense, Scorpius usually tried to fly under the radar with Rose occasionally acting out due to her frustration with her uncle. In Herbology, they could really just let loose and be as sickening as their hearts desired. As long as all of their assignments were completed adequately, and they always were because she was Rose Granger-Weasley, then Professor Longbottom seemed inclined to overlook their behavior.

The second time that Scorpius broke the strict “don’t even look at Albus Potter” rule was in Herbology. Professor Longbottom was teaching them the Herbivicus Charm, a rather lovely spell that brought plants into bloom. They were practicing on roses, and Scorpius and Rose were giggling about the juxtaposition of this lesson with the Bubotuber pus extraction from the class before. Rose had put a dollop of it on Scorpius’s nose in an attempt to be cute, and Scorpius had needed to go to the Hospital Wing to regrow several layers of skin. This time, a few days after Rose’s birthday and still feeling like they were the first humans to ever discover sex and love, Scorpius tucked one of the roses behind her ear, and Ezra and Stuart made loud vomiting noises.

“Problems?” Rose asked as she and Scorpius pulled apart quickly. “Concerns, questions?”

“Oh, I have lots of questions,” Ezra called across the table. 

“Ezra, don’t try to make Scorpius and Rose uncomfortable just because you can’t get a girlfriend,” Melissa said. 

“Maybe I could get a girlfriend if you would agree to go out with me, Melissa,” Ezra snapped, who had propositioned her several times with the very flattering pickup line of ‘let’s be the Slytherin and Gryffindor muggle-born couple’.

“So romantic,” said Melissa. “That’s what I mean when I say you can’t get a girlfriend.”

“Ezra doesn’t really want a girlfriend,” Emmanuel told her. “His girl is incubating.”

“Yeah, Ezra exclusively likes twelve-year-olds,” Stuart said with a nasty smile at Ezra.

“You’re all creeps,” Rose told them. “This is why Scorpius got a girlfriend first.”

“I’m very sensitive,” Scorpius said seriously, and Rose hid her laughter in his shoulder.

“Look, she’s not going to be twelve forever,” said Ezra. “But she’s always going to be a spitfire.”

“Wait,” said Rose, pulling back from Scorpius. “You just joined Quidditch, didn’t you, Ezra?”

“I did, yes,” he said proudly. “I’ve even learned some of the rules. I’m a forward.”

“Slytherin is going to get crushed this year,” Fitz shouted from down the table.

“We are,” Stuart said glumly. “I can’t even fight back. We’re bloody awful.”

Rose leaned forward. “Are you talking about who I think you’re talking about?”

“Matilda Flint? No, she’s thirteen. Good guess, though.”

“Liking a second year is a bit repulsive, mate,” called Zephaniel. “You should keep that to yourself.”

“I don’t - I have _plans_ to like her in the _future._ Two years is not a big age difference. It’s weird everyone dates and marries people their own age in this world,” said Ezra.

“Scorpius’s dad is two years older than his mum,” said Stuart. “It’s not unheard of.”

“Actually my dad was over half a century older than my mum,” said Scorpius flippantly. Rose made a choking noise, and the other students seemed stunned, amused, and entirely unsure of how to respond, so he continued to say, “And we all know you’re talking about Lily, Ezra.”

“What?” said Albus loudly, meeting Scorpius’s eyes for just a second before focusing on Ezra. “Are you serious?”

“Nope,” lied Ezra. “Definitely not, Potter brother. See, Melissa? This is the trouble that spreads when you won’t go out with me.”

“You’re repulsive,” Melissa told him. “I’d rather kiss a Bubotuber.”

“I’d rather kiss Rose, but we can’t always get what we want, can we?”

“Thirty points from Slytherin, Mr. Tobbins, for having absolutely no idea how to talk to women,” Professor Longbottom cut in. “Another ten for flirting with your mate’s girlfriend, and then another twenty for any comments about second years you might have made. And then ten more because that girl is your other mate’s little sister. And let’s add twenty more for really not knowing how to treat women. Honestly, I’m appalled.”

“Professor Longbottom, with all due respect, I don’t think Slytherin even has that many points,” Stuart said desperately. “Surely you could just give him detention. We don’t need to go into the negatives here.”

“Fair enough. Two weeks of detention with me, Mr. Tobbins. The points will remain deducted.”

“Stuart, what the fuck?” Ezra whispered, and Professor Longbottom pretended not to hear.

“That was absolutely all your fault, Ezra,” said Rose. 

Albus was staring angrily down at his unbloomed potted plant. He raised his eyes and seemed surprised to find Scorpius looking at him. They held eye contact until Scorpius gave him a weak smile, and Albus’s face crumpled so dejectedly that Scorpius had to remind himself several times to stay where he was and not rush over to him. It was the first time he really allowed himself to examine how truly miserable Albus looked. Scorpius also felt truly miserable, but Albus probably only ever saw him when he was laughing with Rose during their shared classes. 

Truthfully, Scorpius was able to avoid dwelling on how much he missed his best friend by instead channeling all of that energy into explicit fantasies about him in bed just before he fell asleep and right after he woke up, in that delirious and semi-conscious part of the day where his mind could wander without him necessarily feeling like scum. He had figured out this coping strategy about a month into the separation and although it made him feel disgusted with himself when he had finished, it did technically train his brain to stop thinking of Albus as his estranged best friend and instead start thinking of him as someone he wanted to touch so badly that it was physically painful at times. It did less to ruin his relationship.

He really didn’t deserve to have a girlfriend as incredible as Rose. He had never told her about Sirius and certainly never told her about the blind fury he experienced when Ezra explained to the other Slytherin boys later that night that Albus had been so upset in Herbology because he and Ezra had made out a few times throughout the year although Ezra claimed that he had made it very clear that it was a casual thing.

Scorpius wanted to kill him. The strange and sudden bursts of rage that he had been experiencing since returning to this timeline incapacitated him for a moment while he heard, as if underwater, Emmanuel say, “Albus Severus? So you just don’t have standards then?” 

Scorpius was going to kill all of these little bastards.

“No, I have standards,” Ezra said confidently. “Albus Severus just happens to meet them.”

“Okay, well, you blew your shot with Lily, man,” Stuart told him. “You can’t double dip in the same family now.”

Ezra was unconvinced. “That’s a ridiculous rule. Weasleys are half the school!”

“They’re literally brother and sister,” said Stuart.

“What do you think, Scorpius?” Ezra asked, looking at him like he knew Scorpius was seething. He smiled, which made Scorpius even angrier. He’d always liked Ezra before now, and suddenly Ezra was his least favorite person in the world. “Are we all limited to just one Weasley?”

“They’re brother and sister,” Scorpius said, echoing Stuart. “And I think that actually neither of them would really want you, so the choice is made for you! That’s lucky.” He paused, and as Ezra was about to speak, said, “And what kind of asshole would snog someone and then publicly talk about wanting to kiss their sister and cousin?”

Ezra leaned back against his headboard and narrowed his eyes in the kind of calculating way that he’d only started doing in the past year. The fourth year had brought a lot of changes; Stuart was being groomed to be Quidditch captain and spent more time with the upperclassmen, Emmanuel had stopped being mean to Adelaide and was instead obsessed with getting into her pants, Scorpius alternated between rage and desire with almost no time left for anything else, and Ezra had become a conniving little monster. It was now very easy to see why the charming young muggle-born had been sorted into the evil pure-blood house. “Probably,” said Ezra in his most dangerous voice, “the exact same kind of asshole who would fuck someone’s cousin and still whisper their name when we all know you’re not really talking in your sleep.”

Scorpius stared back at him, completely aghast and unsure of if he could trust himself to react. The issue was that Scorpius was also literally going insane, and only he knew about it, and he couldn’t trust anyone enough to tell them about it. The person that he would ordinarily tell about it was his dad, but his dad had been so stressed over the past few months that Scorpius couldn’t bring himself to say, “Hey, dad, I’m losing time, and sometimes I wake up in the Forbidden Forest with rips in my clothes and scratches all over my palms.” Because really that had to be one of the top three things a parent wouldn’t want to hear, along with “my best friend’s dad has forbidden me to see him because he thinks I’m an evil entity” and “my girlfriend and I have sex all over the Hogwarts grounds but don’t get invested because I wish I were dating her cousin.”

In an effort to combat his dissociative amnesia, he had ordered a Remembrall for himself, but the Remembrall was unwaveringly red. This meant that either the Remembrall was defective or Scorpius really had lost the memory of large chunks of his life. Scorpius personally believed it was the latter. The person he really wanted to talk about it with was Ginny Potter, but unfortunately, she was on the list of people currently banned from speaking to him because he was an evil entity. The next person he would like to discuss this with would be Harry Potter, but unfortunately, he was the person who had created the list of people banned from speaking to him as an evil entity. He didn’t know what his father could offer besides additional stress and pressure.

He had woken up several times in the Forbidden Forest and one especially jarring time after slipping and accidentally stepping into the Great Lake. Scorpius had been terrified that Harry Potter was going to pull him aside but apparently any perusal of the Marauder’s Map did not cover the hours of 3 and 4 am because no one ever brought it up to Scorpius. Scorpius, at a loss, had resorted to _ad hoc_ unsupervised treatment, which involved a mixture of mindfulness exercises and constant journaling. It had, thus far, not been effective, but Scorpius was going to keep hoping for success because he had essentially no other viable options.

In addition to the bouts of lost time, Scorpius was suffering from uncontrollable rages. He knew they related to Harry Potter banning him from seeing Albus because they were always especially consuming when he was in the presence of Professor Potter himself. Scorpius felt such mindless rage when he looked at him that he had worried, on the first day of their Patronus lessons, that he’d snap his own wand in his tense grip. He had destroyed several innocent plants and treasured possessions in attempts to quell his rage; these ineffective plans, combined with a long speech from Rose about how, at this point in time, she did not want to explore choking, taught Scorpius that he needed to do something more productive with his anger. 

And productive was not getting in a fight with that filthy muggle-born Ezra Tobbins about two blood traitors like Rose Granger-Weasley and Albus Severus Potter.

Scorpius inhaled sharply as the thought entered his mind and grabbed his bedpost until the anger passed. In the silence of his dormmates awaiting his response, Scorpius could hear the sound of himself accidentally scratching off a layer of wood and varnish from the bedpost, and it shocked him back into his normal, rational mind. 

He cleared his throat, released the bedpost, and said, “I understand that you’re jealous of me and Rose, Ezra, but all of this… it’s just pathetic. Do whatever you want with Albus. I don’t care.”

Scorpius stormed out of the dormitory. Ezra started to make some more goading comments, and Stuart hissed, “Ezra, just leave it alone, man.” In spite of his own dramatic, self-obsessed impulses, Ezra fell silent until Scorpius had left the dormitory.

The third and final time Scorpius made eye contact with Albus, he was so unbelievably tired of Albus Severus and all the drama surrounding these narcissistic, arrogant fourth years. Yes, during his better moods, he had found the idea of Ezra and Albus really intriguing and was certainly fascinated by the implications of Albus being interested in another boy, but during his worse (and prevailing) moods, the desire that Albus had to claim the world’s, and especially Scorpius’s, attention without doing anything noteworthy on his own merit simply made him furious. At least when Harry Potter was insufferable, he still had some real contributions to offer the world.

He saw him on the Hogwarts Express on their way home after the first semester. Scorpius had a compartment to himself because no one in the world other than Rose would want to sit with him at the moment. The other Slytherins, although they showed a keen interest in his behavior and still spoke with him warmly when situations pushed them together, were smart enough to avoid whatever was going on in Scorpius’s head. As long as they didn’t bring it up to a professor, then Scorpius had no problem with them.

Albus was having a final conversation with Ezra before heading off with Lucy Weasley to join their cousins in the quarantine compartment for children with red hair and freckles. Ezra left, and Albus saw Scorpius through the glass and waved goodbye cautiously. Scorpius glared at him and dropped the blinds on the compartment with a flick of his wand before he could see Albus’s look of shock. On the trip back to Kings Cross, Scorpius was forced to endure another speech from his girlfriend on why neither choking _nor_ hitting and biting were acceptable in their relationship at this point in time.

There were days of great relief. Sometimes, Scorpius felt so like himself that he was terrified about the implications of what was happening to him on the other days. He mostly felt like himself whenever Rose was around. Rose was tough and would never put up with him if he was acting so oddly around her frequently; the only time it ever happened around Rose was when Scorpius was so absorbed with her that he completely lost track of himself. Even still, she had noticed a change in his behavior and would unsubtly interrogate him on occasion. He often felt like himself around his dad and had a great deal of control in classes even though certain professors would cause the fury to flare up more than others.

A particularly nice string of days, so pure that Scorpius had difficulty remembering what it had felt like to feel like someone other than himself, occurred around their second week of the new semester, when Professor Potter was once again attempting to teach them the Patronus Charm. They had worked on the Patronus every second Tuesday of the month for the whole year, and no one had mastered it yet. Scorpius had already produced a Patronus in the other reality but, in an attempt to lie low and out of shame for the form of his Patronus, had been intentionally thinking of terrible memories when saying the incantation. Fortunately, he had plenty.

The fifth Patronus lesson marked the first successes for the class. The shocking first to achieve a Patronus was Zephaniel Smith, who was so excited by his rooster that he accidentally broke the spell and was unable to bring it back again. Next was Fitz Wood, who produced a seagull that the majority of the class was watching fly around the classroom while students theorized about the meaning.

“It’s because you’re annoying and steal food off my plate,” Karl told him.

“Yes, Jenkins, I believe that who I am in my deepest self is a person who steals food off your plate,” Fitz said sarcastically. “My Patronus must have responded to that.”

The third person to produce a Patronus was Rose, who in Scorpius’s opinion should have been first. He fretted that perhaps he wasn’t making her happy enough if she couldn’t produce a Patronus before all of her classmates but was distracted from Fitz’s seagull by Rose screaming, “YES! YES, MERLIN, YES!”

Scorpius looked up in alarm, and Ezra pointed at him and positively roared with laughter. “Look at Scorpius wondering what made his girlfriend make those sounds! Bloody priceless, you two are.”

Scorpius recovered quickly and grinned at Ezra, because joking back was the only proven way to deal with him. “I was unaware that she could make those noises.”

“The Quidditch bleachers beg to differ,” muttered Yann to Karl and Zephaniel. 

“Hm?” Scorpius asked innocently. “Do you mean the fans when she plays Quidditch? Because, yes, she is quite good. At Quidditch.”

“Focus on your Patronuses,” Professor Longbottom called, who occasionally showed up to assist in their lessons. “If I don’t see a Patronus, I will deduct points for joking around.”

Everyone returned to the lesson with a few grumbles. Rose ran up to Scorpius and teased, “I thought you said you could do one, Scorpion King. I’m seeing some plot holes.”

“Honey badger, Rose?” Scorpius teased back, deflecting easily. “I always knew you were a vicious little Hufflepuff.”

Rose scoffed. “How dare you? I bet you’re trying to fail on purpose so none of us see your tiny little snake.”

Scorpius made a choking noise while Rose burst out laughing. He blushed bright red, and she laughed harder. They were beginning to draw attention back from the rest of the room, and Scorpius felt that sickening awareness of Professor Potter regarding them coldly from the other side of the classroom. As always, he tried valiantly to ignore it. “Intense taunt, Rosie. Really hard to respond to.”

“Prove me wrong.”

She winked, and Scorpius had to bang on his chest while Rose roared with laughter.

From the spot where he’d been advising Yann Fredericks, Professor Longbottom shouted, “Rose, flirt on your own time. Scorpius still needs to get his Patronus.”

“Yeah, Rose,” teased Polly Chapman. “Why don’t you share with the class what you’re giggling about?”

Rose smiled smugly. “Just guessing what Scorpius’s Patronus might be.” She jabbed him slyly in his ribs, and Scorpius cringed away and started giggling uncontrollably. She jabbed again.

He whacked her hand away, very aware that multiple sets of eyes were glaring at them. After a few seconds of prodding, he grabbed both her hands and held them still over her head. Her chest was heaving from laughter and exertion, and it took him a moment to fully appreciate the fact that he had his girlfriend pinned down in a class taught by her uncle who hated him. It really just felt like they were playing, then their eyes locked, and Scorpius felt a tingling in his lower stomach. He let her go and stumbled back. “I think you just want to lose Slytherin more points.”

Rose snorted. “You’ve been in the negatives all year, and that’s not going to change anytime soon. What I _want_ is for you to stop acting like a sad sack because you miss your buddy and show everyone that you can do a Patronus!” 

Rose started poking at him mercilessly while he cringed back and giggled, pathetically wheezing _“Expecto”_ a few times without even trying to wave his wand. Rose repeated, “Do it, do it!” and Scorpius swatted at her, both of them laughing, before he gasped out, _“Expecto Patronum!”_

He was so distracted that he never expected it to work. He just wanted to appease Rose. If he had, in that distant part of his brain that knew things would happen before he ever expected them, thought the Patronus would work, then he would have guessed that it would have taken a Rose-inspired form. After all, his mind was blank other than the effect of her playfulness. He hadn’t spoken to Albus in months and, either way, Albus was safe and fully extant. Scorpius’s Patronus must have changed form.

Rose gasped, and he moaned in dismay as the Megaloceros burst out of his wand. It felt like a piece of the alternate timeline had just forced itself into their world. Professor Longbottom shouted, “Nicely done, Scorpius!” apparently before he’d gotten a good look at the form, because the silence was deafening after the Great Horn deer had emerged. 

Rather than bounding around the room like the standard Patronus, it simply stood in front of Scorpius and watched him. Scorpius stared back at it hopelessly. The blood drained from his face, and he held eye contact with the glowing Megaloceros to avoid catching eyes with any of the judgmental onlookers. Whispers had already broken out. It took a few seconds before Professor Longbottom added, “Twenty points to Slytherin. Congratulations.”

Rose nudged him with her shoulder as the Megaloceros vanished and whispered, “Congratulations, Scorpion King.”

He tried to smile before looking at her. She smiled back at him nervously. Her eyes darted away, and Scorpius followed her gaze to where Professor Potter was staring blankly at the spot of the vanished Patronus. Professor Longbottom was alternating between smiling encouragingly at the students and watching Professor Potter warily. Small groups of students were whispering with their eyes on Scorpius, and Albus was staring at the spot of the vanished Megaloceros with a half-horrified, half-blank expression similar to his father’s. He met Scorpius’s eyes briefly, unreadable in a way he’d never been before, then returned to his own ineffective Patronus.

He looked back at Rose, wondering if he had any reason to feel guilty about this particular mistake. She gave him a brave smile and joked, “You’ve got to wonder if size matters with Patronuses.”

“I can’t see why form matters at all,” Scorpius muttered.

Rose shrugged. “I suppose it’s meant to make you additionally happy when you look at it? Like a boost.”

Scorpius remembered how he’d felt in the alternate timeline when he’d realized that his Patronus had taken the form of an extinct creature. For an odd moment, he missed Sirius Jean Potter so much that he couldn’t breathe. He had thought of Sirius frequently but never missed him so poignantly until now, when he realized that joy hadn’t been this difficult to summon in the alternate universe in the face of real dementors. At least Sirius wouldn’t stand twenty feet away from him, completely unreachable.

Rose grabbed his arm urgently and whispered, “Scorpius, it’s okay to miss him. Uncle Harry is being completely unreasonable. I can talk to him.”

“To your uncle?”

“No, to Albus,” she whispered. “It’s ridiculous. You were best friends for years. I don’t blame you for being upset.”

“Why are you telling me this?” he whispered back hoarsely. “You know I can’t talk to him.”

Rose frowned. “Because you look so sad and guilty. You have nothing to feel guilty about.”

Scorpius nodded distantly. “Yeah, I - thank you for saying that, Rose.”

She smiled and kissed him lightly in the middle of the classroom. Any points they’d won for their Houses were taken away and then some. Rose, very innocently, suggested, “Maybe we should just be dismissed for the day?” and Professor Potter gave them both detention for a week. Rose met Scorpius’s eye, smirked, and cast another Patronus. Professor Longbottom awarded her ten points.

Albus sped out of the room before the class had been formally dismissed, and Rose was roped into a conversation with some of her fellow Gryffindors, the girls who used to make fun of Scorpius then abruptly started giggling and blushing in his presence. It was less mean-spirited, but Scorpius couldn’t really say that he preferred it. As the only truly established couple in their year, especially once with such an interesting backstory stretching back to their grandparents’ generation, Scorpius had always known that Rose would get plenty of attention from the other students for choosing to date him. She squeezed his hand in parting before running off to join the girls, and Scorpius was left alone to hurry out of the room before Professor Potter could glare at him. 

He was accosted by unseen hands in the antechamber off the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and pulled underneath the Invisibility Cloak, where he suddenly found himself chest-to-chest with Albus, who held a finger up to his lips for Scorpius to be silent. Scorpius, who felt he had proven a thousand times over that he would do whatever Albus told him to, nodded mutely then flashed him a watery smile that Albus returned hesitantly.

It was so dangerous for Scorpius to be here. He remembered what his uncle Blaise had said, that Albus showed a very poor understanding of the fact that Scorpius had to play by different rules, but was so relieved to be near him that he couldn’t find it in himself to care. It felt like all the tension and rage of the past few months was forced out of his body, leaving him who he was and where he needed to be, with Albus. 

Students began to walk past them, chattering inanely as they headed to the Great Hall for their midday meal, and neither of them looked away from one another as the room emptied out. Scorpius, who figured that he should get every answer he wanted out of this if he was going to break the “no looking at or speaking to Albus” rule so audaciously, put one hand on the small of Albus’s back then slid it farther down as Albus gasped and arched into him encouragingly. 

Albus was breathing heavily, and Scorpius took a moment to make sure that the image of Albus with flushed cheeks and his chest heaving matched the one from his fantasies before leaning forward to nuzzle his face against the side of Albus’s face. Albus inhaled sharply at a sound from the classroom, and Scorpius realized why he wanted them to listen in.

“What’s really going on with Albus and Scorpius?” Professor Longbottom asked as he and Professor Potter cleaned up the classroom with simple flicks of their wands. “It’s been months. I can’t keep watching this much longer, Harry.”

“Watching what?” Professor Potter asked in a rough voice. Scorpius watched with great interest as Albus grimaced at the sound. Albus must think that this conversation would be important for Scorpius to hear because he on his own could listen in on any conversation that mentioned him by name. He simply couldn’t confer that information to Scorpius anymore. As Scorpius was able to press his lips to the base of Albus’s neck without thinking too much about it, he was inclined to admit that he enjoyed this method of overhearing conversations. Albus gasped, arched against him, and then quickly moved his hand to hold Scorpius’s hips firmly away from his own. 

“Why aren’t they friends?” Professor Longbottom demanded. “They were best friends, and then they went back in time, and now they aren’t? I can’t track it, Harry. They both made the same mistake, and I can’t believe that you want your son to be this miserable.”

“You can’t track it? Scorpius Malfoy altered time so horribly that Voldemort won. You don’t see why I’m wary of his influence on my son?”

Professor Longbottom made a sound like he considered laughing and then thought better of it. “Well, it’s just - come on, Harry. Of course that was Albus’s idea. From what I’ve gathered, Scorpius went to incredible lengths to put things right.” Albus tensed up at the very accurate description of what had transpired, and Scorpius pressed another soothing kiss against his neck. Albus moved the hand that wasn’t very tellingly holding his hips away to wrap it around his neck and hid his face in Scorpius’s chest.

“There’s no way of seeing exactly how deep his influence over Albus runs.”

There was the sound of a hovering chair crashing to the ground. “Harry. That’s bullshit. Albus was lucky to find Scorpius.”

“Hey.”

“They were lucky to find each other! They need each other.”

“Albus could have been friends with anyone!”

“I don’t think that’s exactly true, Harry.”

“He didn’t have to end up with Draco Malfoy’s Slytherin son, okay? He’s already screwed up Albus’s first three years here, but we can fix that. I should have been more proactive.”

“Harry! This is not Scorpius’s fault!” Albus pulled back to look up at Scorpius with an expression of what he quickly realized was hope that Professor Longbottom would be the person to get through to his dad. Scorpius focused less on the fact that Albus’s body was almost pressed against his and more on the content of their conversation. “I remember when I came over for Christmas when Albus was little, just after Hannah had left me. Albus was the saddest little kid I’ve ever met. I’d never seen anything like it. I think it’s hard, for both of us who lost so much as children, to respect the extent of his sadness, but it’s just as real as ours was. And when we were given the chance, we were able to shake off some of it, but Albus - he was never able to shake it off. When he was friends with Scorpius, he was the happiest I’d ever seen him.”

Professor Potter sounded unconvinced, just as angry and resolute as he was before. “He has no reason to be sad.”

“No, he doesn’t have the _same reasons as you_ to be sad. Everything you suffered, you solved for him. That’s amazing, Harry. He grew up with two parents. He grew up in a world where he wouldn’t be targeted by dark wizards. He had a bed and love and enough to eat. But he suffered in other ways. He grew up in a time of peace, but that can’t solve everything for him.”

“That’s how Hermione always described him to me - Malfoy, that is. Draco. A child of peace. He grew up with no conflict because of what _my_ parents had sacrificed, so he was able to believe whatever his father told him with no one there to test his commitment to the cause. Then the war started, and he couldn’t stomach it.”

“You and me, though, Harry. We were never children of peace. Even when the first war was over, it was our whole lives. I think it’s beautiful that you tried - that you’re trying - to recreate what you lost. That you married Ginny and had three amazing kids. Me, I couldn’t do it. It’s why Hannah and I didn’t work out. I couldn’t stand the idea of having children who would one day see me the way I saw my parents. Neither Hannah nor I had any parents of our own to take care of them like my Gran. If anything happened to us, they would have been alone, and I just couldn’t… I still can’t shake the idea that something will happen to us. I can’t stand the idea of seeing a child I love so much, understanding who they are and how much I love them, but being unable to reach them through my own insanity. I’m never going to have children. And I am… impressed that you can.”

Scorpius and Albus shared a quick look of alarm as they realized that perhaps this was the line that they should not cross. They could not listen to Professor Longbottom share this with his friend assuming that no one was there to overhear them, but then Professor Potter asked, “What does that mean?”

“Look, I have no idea why you’re doing this. I try to understand it, and I can’t. You may want to punish Albus or Draco, but I _know_ that you know that Scorpius is innocent. In addition to looking exactly like his father, he reminds me more of a child of me and Hermione than he does Draco and Astoria. Certainly not Astoria and Voldemort. The kid is a harmless dork, in Ron’s words, and an angel, in Hermione’s. He’s not evil.”

“Albus is growing up just as spoiled and self-centered as Draco.”

“That’s just it, isn’t it? Albus is a child of peace too, just like Draco, but when Draco was actually confronted with something that challenged him, he changed. Don’t think I don’t understand how hard it is to forgive Malfoy, Harry. I, more than anyone - I’ve heard the way he talks about Bellatrix Lestrange. He talks like she saved his bloody life, and she did! She destroyed mine, and she saved his. It wasn’t easy, but I’ve forgiven him because, at the end of the day, he’s done what neither of us were able to. He broke the cycle. He’s been such a good dad to Scorpius, so much better than Lucius was to him, and Scorpius is so much better than Draco ever was. And, blimey, Harry, Draco bloody worships you. You must see that? They both do, really, but Draco - he’d do anything you told him to. He anticipates what you might tell him to do. He’d kill himself trying to be useful. Impressing you and being a good dad to Scorpius - you only need to have one conversation with him to realize that those are the only two things he cares about. So if Draco isn’t the problem, and Scorpius isn’t the problem, and I beg you not to think Albus is the problem, then what’s wrong? Let the poor kid be happy, because he’s miserable, Harry. I teach the Slytherins and Gryffindors together too. Scorpius is heartbroken, but at least he has his classmates and Rose, who, by the way, has been even more focused and productive under his influence.”

“Maybe Rose is stronger than Albus.”

“That’s what you’ve taken away from all that? I want to believe that this is no one’s fault, but you’re making that really difficult for me to believe.”

“I’ve spoken to Ron and Hermione about Scorpius and Rose already.”

“No one’s ever going to listen, Harry. You don’t have a single friend who would listen to that type of argument. Because when the world tried to tell us the same thing about our good friend - that he was evil, insane, possessed by Voldemort - we said, ‘That’s complete bullshit. We know Harry Potter better than any external source possibly could, and we’re going to let his actions speak the loudest.’ And now we’re giving Scorpius that same trust. You just - I guess you never learned what it was like to have a friend like Harry Potter, but you learn to trust the goodness that you see even when the whole world tells you that you’re wrong.”

Albus and Scorpius exchanged astonished looks. Scorpius was so sure that he was going to take the opportunity to kiss him, but it was much easier to refuse someone other than himself. Albus leaned almost imperceptibly inwards, and Scorpius jerked his head back and shoved Albus into the wall. Albus shut his eyes for a moment as Scorpius held him firmly against the wall then slowly opened his eyes to regard him with the kind of flushed, pupils-dilated look that suggested that he did not mind being pushed away. 

Scorpius settled for hiding his face in Albus’s hair as Harry Potter considered Professor Longbottom’s appraisal of the situation. He stood there, breathing in Albus’s hair, until Professor Potter admitted, “I’m not so sure that I ever shook it off.”

“No, me neither,” admitted Professor Longbottom. “But it’s a lot of pressure to put on a child to be happy just because we were less happy, Harry. That’s not - that’s not anything, really. We were really, really unhappy. Thank Merlin that Albus never knew the same kind of suffering, but what Albus experiences, and the way that he is - that’s not his fault either. It’s still real suffering. You were hunted based on your name, but so is he! Yes, there’s no evil wizard out there trying to kill him, but there are hundreds of mean children in here trying to undermine him no matter what he does.”

“You care a lot about this,” Professor Potter remarked in an observant, somewhat detached voice.

“I care a lot about a kid with an important name being bullied because his magical ability doesn’t live up to the historic significance of his parents? Yeah. I do. And you should care a lot about an outcast trying to reconcile their own power with their notoriety and the stories surrounding their birth. This is what teaching at Hogwarts is, Harry, and I know you think you made your amends and I know you named a child after him, but you… you don’t want to be the Snape of these children’s lives. They’re just kids. Pretend their last names don’t exist. Albus is sad, and kind, and so powerful in an understated way, and Scorpius is the sweetest kid you’ve ever met but he’s struggling under the pressure that _you_ are putting on him. And he’s strong, Harry, yes, if that’s your fear. He gets every spell by the second or third try, just like you did. I would doubt it really took him that long to produce a Patronus.”

“It didn’t,” Professor Potter muttered. “According to his description of the alternate universe. He had said that he’d only produced a shield, but he’d done it. With someone else’s wand, too.”

“See, that’s just it, Harry. You’re judging them based on the information you’ve gathered. I am saying that I have seen Scorpius with his friends, and I have seen him learn how to cast a spell, and there is no way that a kid as loving, powerful, and dedicated as Scorpius would take five months to produce a Patronus. I don’t need to know what you know about his life experiences. He’s my student. I know him in the only way I need to know him.”

“He’s dangerous!” Professor Potter shouted. “None of you can understand how dangerous a person can be with nobody watching! When his father was tasked with—“

“Again, Harry, you can’t compare him to his dad, because you are not the only person here who hates Draco Malfoy! I hate Draco, Harry. You forgave him - you made him think that you forgave him, at least, but I never did. Scorpius, however, is a completely different person, and I’m sorry, but all that hate and fear and concern that he receives from every single person he looks up to does nothing but create a self-fulfilling prophecy. He is - was, at least - wonderful. I am not Frank Longbottom, Harry. You are not James Potter. Albus isn’t you, and Scorpius isn’t Draco Malfoy. None of this should be so difficult.”

“Neville, wait!” Albus’s dad shouted as Professor Longbottom rushed past them without a word. Scorpius took a moment to marvel at the power of the invisibility cloak before Professor Potter shouted, “Neville, please!” and Scorpius’s heart shattered. Professor Potter followed him out of the classroom a second later.

Albus grabbed his hand and led him, still underneath the cloak, into a hidden alcove one floor down. Scorpius grabbed the cloak before Albus could pull it off their heads, and Albus leaned into him more intentionally than before. He wrapped an arm around his neck to pull him in for a kiss, and Scorpius whispered, “Rose.”

“No, Albus. I’m Albus.”

Scorpius kissed his forehead affectionately. “I know you are.” He proceeded to kiss down the side of his face. “Albus.”

Albus nodded reluctantly and whispered, “But you have Rose.”

“And you have - you have Ezra and - and Delphi,” Scorpius whispered accusingly.

Albus’s eyes widened. “Ezra said?”

Scorpius smiled in spite of himself. “Yes, obviously. I wouldn’t really expect a fifteen-year-old boy to keep those secrets to himself.”

“No, makes sense,” said Albus. “I heard about the Quidditch bleachers.”

“That could have been anyone.”

“And behind Gregory the Smarmy?”

Scorpius narrowed his eyes and said, in his most aloof and condescending voice, “Anything we did in that passageway, we only did as Gregory the Smarmy would have wished.”

Albus glared back at him, equally condescendingly. “And I assume that you told everyone about all of those encounters?”

“No, see, the thing is that Rose and I can be trusted with each other’s secrets, whereas Ezra Tobbins is just a piece of shit,” Scorpius growled. “And you were stupid if you ever trusted him.”

“I didn’t really think it mattered!”

“Why would it not have mattered?”

“Because I am a boy, and he is a boy, and until I graduate, there will not be many more options for boys!”

Scorpius frowned. “But you - you like Delphi. You liked Delphi when we did her stupid time turner plot.”

“I had never liked a girl other than Delphi,” Albus agreed, reminding Scorpius of when he had worried that Albus was under some kind of enchantment. “I still - I think I do like Delphi, but what happened with Ezra is different, and I’m not especially worried about it getting out, because I don’t think anyone could measure up.”

“Oh! I hadn’t thought of it like that. So other than special Delphi, no one could measure up to brilliant Ezra.”

“Are you bloody stupid?” Albus hissed. “Why are you demanding I say this to you? You are fucking in love with my cousin, so I really have nothing else that I could ask from you. It’s beautiful, Scorpius, really, that the rest of your life sucks so bad but you still have Rose. Really, we all find it adorable.”

“Well, maybe Rose was the only person who offered to be there for me, Albus!”

“My dad banned me from seeing you, and the general consensus, in case you hadn’t heard, was that it would be incredibly selfish of me to try to talk to you!”

“Maybe you should have tried anyway!” Scorpius shouted then remembered to modulate his volume. “Just so I could say ‘no’, just so that I could have had any power at all in this relationship - and, by the way, your dad is probably watching us on the bloody map, so I should go.”

“James has the map,” Albus said. “I asked him to steal it for me when I borrowed the cloak. He promised he’d say he used it for him and Teddy to hook up. I would never have done this if I thought you’d get in trouble!”

“I find that hard to believe because I told you not to use the time turner, and I’m the one who lost everything because of it.”

“Lost everything?” Albus repeated in a scandalized whisper. “I am in a house that hates me. Everyone, including professors, is afraid to talk to me because my dad’s off his rocker. I have no friends other than my cousin who just wants to be able to report back to her boyfriend, who is my best friend that I am forbidden to talk to, that she’s been helpful.”

“She hasn’t been reporting back to me.”

“Well, she’s only doing it because of you, as if I need you to rub your relationship in any more!” Albus snapped. “You two are the smuggest, most horrible couple on Hogwarts grounds, and the more horrible you become, the more everyone respects you as a couple! It’s repulsive. As if I’d ever want help from either of you.”

“Look, I didn’t tell Rose to do anything, but if she did, it’s probably because she thought it was helpful. Have you considered what this would have been like without her?”

“Yes! You would have been forced to be miserable too! Instead you’ve been fine, so you’ve had your irritating girlfriend and my awful cousin make sure that everyone is as fine as you two just because you’ve screwed under the Quidditch bleachers!”

Scorpius was taken aback. “Albus, I don’t think I was the reason any of this happened. Rose just made it seem like she was looking out for you.”

“She was!” Albus spat. “In the smuggest, most horrible way possible, as if it would be fun for me to play a game of Wizard’s Chess with her after you’d put your tongue inside her! Why did that even come up? Why did I have to know that that had happened? She rubs her relationship with you in my face constantly, so excuse me if I’m not grateful that she’s also the only person in our year who defends me.”

“I’m not sure,” Scorpius said blankly. “I wouldn’t have - Albus, I didn’t want you to know about any of it.”

“Then why did I find out?”

“What happens in the Gryffindor common room - I’m not in control of that. Just like you didn’t want me to find out about you and Ezra.”

Albus leaned back and regarded him through half-lidded eyes. “But I did want you to know about that.”

“Oh,” said Scorpius. “I would have - I thought that I - you just seemed — “

“No, Scorpius, I wanted to know how you’d react. I wanted to know if you’d care.”

“I care! Obviously I care, Albus! We were best friends for five years! I wasn’t going to stop caring because of some rule, but you’re forcing me to make decisions when they’re most comfortable for you, and that isn’t fair! I love you, and I love Rose, and that is very hard for me to reconcile! Especially because I don’t think Rose would let anyone tell her to stay away if she didn’t want to, so why couldn’t you show the same loyalty? It’s - it’s honestly absurd to me, Albus, that I want you more than I want her. She has been everything you could never be and has never asked for anything from me. I don’t even think you tried. So please, Albus, please do not act like any of this is my fault because I have wasted my entire life trying to be good enough for you and your dad when I was already fine to begin with.”

Albus frowned like he knew he’d done something wrong and retreated into himself until Scorpius gave him a shake to remind him that they were in a small alcove together. Albus breathed in shakily and nodded. “Okay, so you don’t - you don’t want anything to do with me, and that’s good to know.”

“No, Albus, I am not allowed to have anything to do with you! You do not get to turn this into another pity party because I adore you and would do anything for you, and you are the person who can’t figure out what to do with that!”

Albus leaned his head back against the wall and regarded him through half-lidded eyes. “Would you kiss me?”

“Well, no, because I have a girlfriend,” Scorpius explained before his less reasonable instincts could explain that they had Albus pinned down on their bed every morning and night. 

“So you wouldn’t really do anything for me,” he reasoned.

“If I had enough time,” Scorpius hissed. “I would need time to - I love her, Albus, and I wouldn’t really expect you to understand, but I love you too. I saved the bloody time turner for you even though it’s probably going to land me and my dad in Azkaban, but you wanted me to save it, and it was the last thing you asked me to do, so I did it! I wouldn't do that for anyone but you.”

Albus’s lips parted in shock. “You saved the time turner?”

“You wanted me to save the time turner, so I saved the time turner!” Scorpius snapped. 

Albus met his eyes and regarded him thoughtfully for a moment before whispering, “Please kiss me.”

“No!” Scorpius shouted. “Let’s destroy the time turner and be done with it.”

“Scorpius, please,” Albus whispered. He arched into him, and Scorpius pushed him back into the wall again.

“I would love to figure out how to make this work, Albus, really, when you can figure out how to talk to me without landing me or my dad in Azkaban. I just - I love you so much, and you’ve never shown any consideration for the situation I’m in. Whenever someone threatens or insults me, I just think - this, this is why Albus won’t talk to me - and I have this fantastic, beautiful bloody girlfriend who would take each and every person who insulted me in a duel. It is so hard to want you, and you are the only person I want, so let’s destroy the time turner and figure out where we are from there.”

“I’m sorry I’m not Rose,” Albus growled. 

“You know what?” said Scorpius. “I’m sorry you’re not either. Every time she does something incredible, I wish you were the person able to do it, and now I’m a terrible person because I wish that she, in all of her bloody incredible Granger-Weasley Gryffindor Rose glory, were you, Albus Severus Potter, who couldn’t even convince his dad to let you talk to me. So let’s just destroy the time turner, and that - that is the last thing I want to do with you.”

Albus stared up at him helplessly then nodded. “Grab the time turner, unless you have it on you, and meet me in the Owlery.”

“Yes,” Scorpius whispered. Albus gave him one more desperate look before hurrying off towards Gryffindor Tower.

He was waiting for him in the Owlery with newfound determination. He clenched his jaw and approached Scorpius. “Scorpius, my dad - he thinks you’re this dark cloud around me, and I never thought that of you, but I knew that because of what he and your dad and Blaise Zabini said that I had to stay away.”

“You heard that,” Scorpius breathed. 

“I’ve heard so many things,” Albus admitted. “My Occlumency - it’s just, in the face of all of this bullshit, not enough. I’ve heard - I should tell you that, because it’s only fair, because I’ve done the same thing, I’ve heard the way you’ve said my name, and - and I’ve heard all of it.”

“Oh!” said Scorpius, surprisingly unconcerned that Albus knew about that. “I was wondering why you’d been so confident.”

Albus frowned at him in that way that made Scorpius want to do anything possible to wipe that frown off his face. “I should have told you how I felt a long time ago. I lo — you’re my best friend, the only person I actually like being around. And what my dad said, you don’t — you couldn’t — hold me back. You make me stronger — and when Dad forced us apart — without you —”

Scorpius sighed and nodded, appreciating that Albus had good reason for fearing that Scorpius had appreciated their separation. “I didn’t much like my life without you in it either.”

Albus smiled back at him hopefully, pressing back against the wall to stay as far from Scorpius as possible without actually moving away. “And I know I’ll always be Harry Potter’s son — and I will sort that out in my head — and I know compared to you my life is pretty good, really, and that he and I are comparatively lucky and —”

Scorpius cut his word vomit off quickly. “Albus, as apologies go this is wonderfully fulsome, but you’re starting to talk more about _you_ than _me_ again, so probably better to quit while you’re ahead.” 

Albus beamed at him and said, with a look that promised that one day he would demand much more, “Friends?”

Scorpius accepted his proffered hand with a smile and agreed, “Always.” because the choice wasn’t really his to make anymore when he was so helplessly in love with Albus. 

“I’m so glad you came,” Albus admitted. “I - I promise that I checked with James. The Marauder’s Map is safe with him, because Scorpius, I am so, so sorry that you and your dad have had your freedom threatened.”

“I wanted you to know, Albus, about the form of my Patronus.”

Albus nodded quickly. “It’s not - I mean, I won’t read into it if - it means whatever you want it to mean.”

“I’d already cast it before, in the alternate universe. I thought of you, like you were there fighting with me, and then this - it’s an extinct form of a stag, it burst from my wand. It made me so sad to think about that it almost disappeared, and then I got back here, and you were still extinct, to me. I was hoping that me and Rose would have compatible Patronuses, but the thing most compatible about us was that we were both able to get our Patronuses.”

“Scorpius,” Albus whispered. “I promised that I wouldn’t make too big a deal out of it, but I love what your Patronus was. Nothing has ever made me feel more loved than that Patronus.”

“I didn’t mean it to be so personal. I didn’t want anyone to see it.”

Albus pressed more forcefully back into the wall like he had to remind himself not to touch Scorpius. “You’re just - I wish you knew that you're perfect, Scorpius. I need you to know how little I deserve you.”

Scorpius breathed deeply. “I - I kind of do, Albus. I just need us to destroy this now.” He pulled the time turner out of his shirt and regarded Albus with a sly, confident smile. “It’s time that time-turning became a thing of the past.”

Albus smiled at him without thinking about it much. “You’re quite proud of that phrase, aren’t you?”

Scorpius beamed at him, already prepared to forgive everything without Albus begging him for forgiveness. “Been working on it since I left.”

“Let’s destroy it then,” said Albus, accepting the time turner from Scorpius. “How shall we do it, Scorpius?”

Scorpius grinned at him, mind already whirling with the standard book of spells grades one through six (as he had read ahead), “I think a simple _Confringo.”_

Albus smiled back at him. “Definitely not. For something like this you need _Expulso.”_

 _“Expulso? Expulso_ and we’ll be clearing bits of Time-Turner from this owlery for days.”

_“Bombarda?”_

“And wake up everyone in Hogwarts? Maybe _Stupefy._ They were originally destroyed using _Stupefy…“_

Albus scowled at the idea of doing anything in the same way as his effective father. “Exactly, it’s been done before — let’s do something new, something fun.”

Scorpius considered giving him a lecture on why being like Harry Potter was very far from the worst thing in the world but instead said, “Fun? Look, many wizards overlook the importance of choosing the right spell, but this really matters. I think it’s a much-underestimated part of modern witchcraft.”

Any affection he had for Albus in that moment abruptly vanished as Delphi appeared in the Owlery to mimic, to Albus’s amusement as she had his two points comment, “‘A much-underestimated part of modern witchcraft’ — you two are the greatest, you know that?”

Scorpius froze, wondering vaguely if she and Albus could understand how much he despised Albus in that moment for allowing Scorpius to trust him. He shot Albus a betrayed look and scooched away from Delphi. “Wow. You’re . . . um . . . What are you doing here?”

Albus looked at him with the kind of concern that a person who claimed to appreciate Scorpius’s unique position in the world didn’t have the right to show after completely betraying his trust. A person who claimed to love Scorpius didn’t have the right to tell someone that he had held onto the time turner that could have gotten his dad sent to Azkaban, especially a girl who gave Scorpius the creeps and who Albus had admitted to liking. It was unfathomable, the extent of the betrayal that Albus didn’t even seem to comprehend. ”It felt important to send an owl — let her know what we’re doing, you know? This concerns her too. “

Delphi looked at Albus with the kind of confident curiosity, as if she knew Albus would always try his hardest to protect her, and said, “What concerns me? What’s this about?”

Albus grimaced at her sympathetically. “We need to destroy the Time-Turner. The things Scorpius saw when he turned back time… I’m so sorry. We can’t risk going back again. We can’t save your cousin.”

Delphi looked at him blankly. “Your owl said so little…“

Albus breathed in deeply, and Scorpius should have screamed that none of this felt right. It wasn’t just the violation of his moment with Albus, as if Albus wouldn’t have been shatterred if it was interrupted by Rose. Delphi felt inherently wrong, and Scorpius doubted she was genuinely moved as Albus explained, “Imagine the worst possible world, and then double it. People being hurt, dementors everywhere, a despotic Voldemort, my dad corrupted, me never born, the world surrounded by Dark Magic — we just, we can’t allow that to happen.”

Delphi gazed at Albus with what Albus probably thought was horror. To Scorpius, she just looked mesmerized. “Voldemort ruled? He was alive?”

Scorpius, who hoped for both of their sakes that the dark aura around Delphi was simply a projection of his jealousy, explained, “He ruled everything. It was terrible.”

“Because of what we did?”

Albus nodded somberly. “You understand?”

Delphi gaped at him as if he weren’t giving her enough credit, which helped to ease Scorpius nerves as he remembered the laughter they’d shared in Hermione’s office. If all of his bias against Delphi was due to jealousy, then he wanted to be the kind of person who could give her a chance. “I’’ll go further than that — I’ll say Cedric would have understood. We’ll destroy it together, and then we’ll go to my uncle. Explain the situation.”

Albus smiled at her hopefully. “Thank you.” He didn’t object as Delphi took the time turner out of his hands. Her open-back shirt allowed her scapula and back to flex in the back, apparently taking Albus off guard as if he didn’t know that cool women existed. He seemed flustered as he said, “Oh, nice mark.”

Delphi paused and looked over her shoulder. Her cloak had loosened such that the open-back shirt could show off her Augurey tattoo. “What?”

Albus seemed overwhelmed, and Scorpius simply could not believe that this was the kind of display that he wanted Scorpius here to see. In all honesty, he was so frustrated with Albus that he wanted to scream, but he couldn’t muster up enough anger, a surprising feat in itself as if the overpowering rage he’d endured for the past five months had left him alone, so Albus stuttered without Scorpius speaking up to point out how ridiculous this all was, “On your back. I hadn’t noticed it before. The wings. Is that what the Muggles call a tattoo?”

Delphi seemed worried for a second then assessed the room to decide Albus was of no threat to her and said, “Oh. Yes. Well, it’s an Augurey.”

 _“Not the Augurey?”_ had said Fred Weasley.

What had he said it in response to? _“People in my reality think I might be Voldemort’s kid.”_

Scorpius sat bolt upright and looked at Delphi mistrustfully, as if she was a much more sinister figure than an eighteen-year-old woman interested in his fourteen-year-old best friend. “An Augurey?”

Delphi gave him a puzzled look. “Haven’t you met them in Care of Magical Creatures? They’re sinister-looking black birds that cry when rain’s coming. Wizards used to believe that the Augurey’s cry foretold death. When I was growing up, my guardian kept one in a cage.”

Scorpius inhaled sharply, because that was a weird way to describe her uncle Amos. Even in the few days of the alternate reality, he thought of Lucius Malfoy as his grandfather rather than his guardian. “Your… guardian?”

Delphi shot Scorpius a sly smile before throwing up the time turner and catching it in her hand. “She used to say it was crying because it could see I was going to come to a sticky end. She didn’t like me much. Euphemia Rowle… she only took me in for the gold.”

_Quiz: Identify the most famous (or infamous) Rowle._

Answer: Thorfinn Rowle - A big, blonde Death Eater who fired off Killing Curses so indiscriminately that he killed another Death Eater, the only death besides Albus Dumbledore in the Battle of the Astronomy Tower.

Albus was puzzled. “Why would you want a tattoo of her bird, then?”

Delphi smirked at him, and if Scorpius weren’t so terrified, he might waste some time worrying about what had happened between the two of them. “It reminds me that the future is mine to make.”

Albus nodded very quickly, and a voice like Rose’s said, _Tragic._ “Cool. I might get an Augurey tattoo.”

Scorpius shook his head, ignoring Albus’s extreme patheticness in the face of a much bigger threat. Delphi had always worried him, but now he felt the same kind of terror he had felt in the presence of the time turner, Dark Harry, and the horcrux. “The Rowles were pretty extreme Death Eaters.”

Albus didn’t get it. “Come on, let’s get destroying… _Confringo? Stupefy? Bombarda?_ Which would you use?”

Scorpius stood up and extended a hand, wondering why that uncontrollable burst of rage and strength didn’t show up to help him defeat Delphi. It was now, not during a tame fight with Ezra, that he really needed that power. “Give it back. Give us back the Time-Turner.”

Delphi shot him a facsimile of a shocked expression, and Scorpius realized that she was about to steal Albus from him. Albus was going to be convinced that Delphi was right and Scorpius was wrong. He willed the fury to come, because he was angry and upset even without it, but it left him to deal with this on his own. “What?”

Albus shot him a betrayed look, like Scorpius was ruining his chances with a good-looking bird, the bloody idiot. He could never be trusted with anyone but Scorpius. “Scorpius? What are you doing?”

Scorpius should have drawn his wand, but for some reason, it was very important to him that Albus believed him. “I don’t believe you ever were ill. Why didn’t you come to Hogwarts? Why are you here now?”

Delphi gasped, scandalized. “I’m trying to bring my cousin back!”

 _“Not the Augurey?”_ said Fred.

 _“Voldemort doesn’t have a_ son,” said Harry Potter.

Scorpius scrambled to his feet. “They called you the Augurey. In — the other world — they called you the Augurey.”

A slow smile grew across Delphi’s face. “The Augurey? I rather like that.”

Albus was at least smart enough to be alarmed now. “Delphi?”

Scorpius had his wand out as fast as possible, but his movements felt oddly slowed, and the delay allowed Delphi to shout, “ _Fulgari!”_

Scorpius’s arms were bound in vicious, invisible cords, and he screamed, “Albus, run!”

Albus gave him a bewildered look then started to run towards the stairs. It was not fast enough to escape Delphi shouting, _“Fulgari!”_

Albus grimaced as his hands were bound. This must be the incantation for the spell that Sirius Potter and alternate Teddy Lupin had used on him. Their hands locked together, and Albus looked terrified even as Scorpius’s thoughts drifted back to Sirius demanding, _“What did you do to him?”_ and Fred Weasley drawling, _“White hair and a fancy robe? This must be a Malfoy.”_

Delphi smiled at Albus victoriously. “And that is the first spell I’ve had to use on you. I thought I’d have to use plenty more. But you’re far easier to control than Amos — children, particularly male children, are so naturally pliant, aren’t they? Now, let’s sort this mess out once and for all…“

Albus demanded, “But why? But what? But who are you?” and Scorpius heard, _“Voldemort doesn’t have a son.”_

Delphi simpered at him. “Albus. I am the new past.” She reached into his pocket, and Albus cringed away from her until she emerged with his wand. She shot him a smug smile and snapped it in front of him as he started at his wand in horror. “I am the new future.” she said as Scorpius summoned enough self-respect to sneer at her warningly as she reached into his pocket. She gave him a different kind of smug smile, as if she knew something crucial that he didn’t know, and he wished he would explode with rage as she boasted, “I am the answer this world has been looking for.” 

_Voldemort doesn’t have a son,_ had said Harry Potter.

She held up the time turner by its chain, letting the instrument swing back and forth as if to hypnotize them. “We are going to return wizarding society to pure and strong magic. We are going to rebirth the Dark. We are going to resurrect the one true ruler of the wizarding world: My father.”


	15. June 1995 (January 2017)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. I did it again. No more promises about ripping from Cursed Child dialogue (but I do think this is the end).

Scorpius felt empty and unbalanced. He felt more like himself than he had since he’d first laid hands on the time turner in the Minister’s office, but something about him was wrong. He’d known that something was wrong since he’d first woken up in the Forbidden Forest, but this was different, more permanent. The malevolence that had driven him to be ruled by nothing but rage and id for months had withdrawn from his body, but it left him hollowed out, as if it had devoured whatever was really Scorpius. 

Albus had betrayed him, but Delphi had betrayed Albus. Right now, that was a much bigger concern. He had spent so much of his life telling himself that, even if he was Voldemort’s child, it wouldn’t mean anything would change because an evil parent would not necessarily beget an evil child. It disgusted him that Delphi had leaned into the reputation that had loomed over Scorpius’s life since he was two years old.

Voldemort had a child. Somehow, whether by luck or because someone had pieced together the right clues, everyone knew that Voldemort had had a child. The rumor had latched onto Scorpius, and he had suffered for his entire life just to distract everyone’s attention from Delphi, Voldemort’s actual child. It should have made him furious. Everything had been making him furious. This was not the time for Scorpius to give up, but really he just felt scared and sad.

Delphi continued to hold the time turner dangling from its chain as she looked at Albus with predatory interest. Albus was the subject of most of her focus. Other than a few sly smiles in Scorpius’s direction, she essentially ignored him. “We’re going to bring him back, Albus Severus. You’ve done it once before. You were destined to do it.”

“Destined?” Albus echoed.

Delphi stroked his cheek and, when Albus attempted to jerk his face away from her, grabbed his hair and forced him to meet her eyes. “We’re going to spare the spare, Albus Severus. We’ll set the world as it was meant to be, and the prophecy will be fulfilled.”

“Wasn’t aware there was a prophecy,” Scorpius called, mostly to see if he could distract her and make her stop touching Albus when he clearly didn’t want her to touch him. “What prophecy?”

It didn’t work. Delphi barely glanced at him before returning her attention to Albus. She tugged his hair back to make him lift his chin. Albus scowled at her. “I won’t obey you.”

Delphi cocked her head to the side and fixed him with a mocking smile. “Of course you will.”

Albus shook his head. “You’ll have to use _Imperio._ You’ll have to control me.”

“No,” she cooed. “I won’t. To fulfill the prophecy, this has to be you, not a puppet of you. You have to be the one to destroy your father, and you’re going to do it because you _want_ to do it. _Imperio_ just won’t do. I’ll have to convince you by other means.”

“Destroy his father?” Scorpius asked. “Harry Potter was alive and well in the other universe.”

Delphi smiled at him briefly. “The prophecy hasn’t been fulfilled yet, has it?”

She pressed her wand into Albus’s neck, and Albus stuck out his chin determinedly. “Do your worst.”

Delphi assessed him thoughtfully then smiled and pointed her wand at Scorpius, directing Albus to look at him instead. “I will.”

“No!” Albus shouted.

“Yes, as I thought - this seems to frighten you more.”

Scorpius saw Albus falter indecisively and called, “Albus, whatever she does to me - we can’t let her—“

 _“Crucio!”_ Delphi shouted.

Scorpius yelled out in pain and bit his lip to keep from screaming. It was an all-consuming agony he had never experienced before. All conscious thought flew out of his mind except for a mantra that he repeated to himself silently, that his father had endured this and he could too. The pain subsided slightly, leaving Scorpius swaying on his feet and gasping for breath. 

“I will…” he heard Albus say, but Delphi just laughed at him.

“What? What on earth do you think you can do? A wizardwide disappointment? A sore on your family name? A spare? You want to stop me hurting your only friend? Then do what you’re told.” She paused and gave Albus a chance to respond, and Scorpius willed him to make the right decision. Albus said nothing, and Delphi sneered, “No? _Crucio!”_

Scorpius collapsed to his knees as the spell hit him again, and Albus shouted, “Stop! Please.”

“You are useful to me, Albus Severus. Your friend is not. I have discovered your weakness. You will do exactly as you’re told, or Scorpius will die.” Scorpius raised his eyes to see Albus’s tormented expression as he stared at Delphi, then Delphi grabbed the back of Scorpius’s robes and jerked him to his feet. “Voldemort will return, and the Augurey will sit at his side.” She grabbed Albus’s arm and yanked him viciously towards her. “We are going to rewrite time.”

*

Time stopped, turned over, did a choreographed dance, lost interest in the dance halfway through, smashed and whooshed some noise or something, sucked off the laws of physics, and deposited Scorpius, Albus, and Delphi in the past. The day was bright and sunny. The sounds of celebration down below them coming from the direction of the Quidditch pitch told Scorpius that she had brought them back to the third task. Delphi pointed her wand at Scorpius and said, “Move.”

Albus looked to Scorpius for guidance, but Scorpius did not have a plan. There were people down below who he’d like to ask for help - either of Albus’s namesakes, Hermione Granger, probably not Scorpius’s dad - but this was the past. Scorpius had already seen one rewritten future. He wanted to leave as light a footprint as possible. Albus was a walking spoiler for the fact that Harry Potter would win the war. Scorpius shrugged and said, in a voice that sounded oddly hoarse after the torture, “Move, I guess.”

The castle was empty; everyone was down below to observe the third and final task, which sounded like the least exciting spectator event ever but was undeniably a huge deal. Delphi compelled Scorpius and Albus to walk ahead of her, allowing them to speak mostly freely. Scorpius lowered his voice and said, “Albus, we need to do something.”

“I know, but what? She has snapped our wands, we’re bound, and she’s threatening to kill you!”

“I’m ready to die if it’ll stop Voldemort returning.”

“Are you?” Albus asked, shooting Scorpius a look like he just understood that spending almost a month in a dark reality must have changed him. Albus didn’t really know who he was anymore. Scorpius wasn’t entirely sure who he was. 

Scorpius nodded resolutely. “You won’t have to mourn me for long. She’ll kill me and quickly kill you too.”

“What about the flaw in the time turner?” Albus asked desperately. “Why did it send us back before? It’s defective, right?”

“This is a different time turner,” Scorpius whispered. “Your dad destroyed that time turner the moment Sirius and I reached the castle. This is Lucius Malfoy’s time turner, and I’d bet good money that it works just like it’s supposed to.”

Albus gave him a confused look. “Sirius Black? He was alive in your other reality?”

“No, Sirius Potter,” Scorpius said, surprised that Albus had so little information of what he’d gone through when all the adults had been given the full story other than a few irrelevant details involving Sirius Potter’s mouth and hands. “Harry and Cho’s son, my friend in the other reality.”

“There was a different me?” 

“Surely you knew about this,” Scorpius said. He thought back on what information he’d managed to convey before Harry Potter forbade him to speak to Albus. “I think I mentioned him. He wasn’t - he wasn’t you, though, Albus. He was a different person.”

“Why are you blushing?” Albus whispered. “These are very innocent questions.”

“I’m not blushing!” Scorpius snapped. “Albus, we’re about to die and ruin reality again. It’s not the time.”

“Okay, but I have a lot more questions about Sirius Potter,” Albus hissed. 

“And I’ll answer most of them,” promised Scorpius. “Even if we get away from her, we can’t interact with anyone. We won’t be able to get help.”

“We could ask Dumbledore for help? I’ve heard that he was very good at not disclosing important information, and he’s acquainted with time turners.”

“We can’t risk any of that! What if we just try to overpower her physically and wrestle back the time turner? It’s two against one.”

“Two against one, but she has a magic wand, and honestly, I think she could take us in a fight without it. Your dad once mentioned that he could do wandless magic when he got upset? You seem upset. I think you should try it.”

“I’ve never done wandless magic before, Albus, and I have tried. My dad, in case you hadn’t realized, has about twenty years experience on me and was tutored by Bellatrix Lestrange herself.”

“Fair enough. Someone has to notice us though. She can’t just march two bound Hogwarts students through the crowd at wandpoint. We can’t just enter the maze with no one noticing.”

“Shut it, you two,” Delphi called. 

“How do you expect to get us into the maze to reach Cedric?” Albus demanded as they reached the entrance to the castle. “There are throngs of people out there!”

Delphi made an unamused little _hmph_ noise. “We’re going to use disillusionment charms and blast our way through the back of the maze. And because I don’t want you two to try to slip away while camouflaged, well… I was thinking about it, and maybe I can’t Imperius you, Albus, but I can… _Imperio!”_

Scorpius felt a warm, calm feeling wash over him that he’d like to feel all the time. After feeling so awful for months, it was a welcome respite. He stood still and felt an egg crack over his head while someone - Albus - begged for Delphi to remove something. A voice in his head said, _Walk,_ so Scorpius started to walk. Someone grabbed his arm and shook him, begging, “Scorpius, please, stop,” but it really didn’t matter. Nothing mattered other than the voice, and Scorpius followed its instructions until they reached a very tall hedge. 

A hole was blasted into the hedge that began to grow back very fast. The voice ordered, _Go through it!_ so Scorpius hurried through the opening to a pathway surrounded on all sides by hedges. He couldn’t see whomever was the source of the voice, but he could see Albus, who appeared out of a green silhouette and appeared to be crying. Scorpius frowned. Why was Albus crying? He didn’t want Albus to be crying.

“How did you do that?” the voice demanded, still disembodied. “Do you have a wand?”

“No, magic doesn’t - it doesn’t stick to me. Please, Delphi,” Albus pleaded. “Please remove the curse. I need him with me.”

What did Albus need? Would it make him stop crying? The ultimate goal was for Albus to stop crying.

“I’ll remove the curse when the job is done,” the voice snapped. “You really are pathetically codependent if this is all it takes to break you.”

“You can’t take him away from me!” Albus grabbed at him again. He missed his body a few times then found his arm. “Scorpius, please fight it. You can do it.”

_Ignore him. Keep walking._

Scorpius started to walk, and Albus ran ahead to keep up with him. “Scorpius, you can shake it off. Please try.”

“I don’t think he wants to,” the voice said, sounding amused.

“Scorpius!” Albus was crying again, and the voice repeated, _Don’t stop walking._

Except Albus was crying, and he seemed to want Scorpius not to listen to the voice. The voice wanted him to continue, but Albus did not. If Scorpius wanted to make him feel better, then he had to listen to Albus instead of the voice, but the voice was safe and comforting. Albus felt dangerous, and Scorpius’s sluggish instincts reminded him to stay away from him. He had been supposed to stay away from Albus, right? Why had he not? Because he loved him?

Scorpius stopped walking. The voice, sounding less condescending and more furious than before, kept demanding him to continue. It was uncomfortable and upsetting not to listen to it, but Albus’s grip on his arm tightened, and Albus sobbed, “Yes, just like that. Don’t listen to it.”

“I told him to stop,” claimed Delphi falsely.

“No, you didn’t,” said Scorpius, and the voice was pushed out of his mind. Albus let out a sob of relief and threw his arms around what he estimated to be Scorpius’s neck, which was really more in the lower shoulder/upper arm area. Did Albus think he was short?

Delphi sighed and removed the disillusionment charm, presumably to improve her aim at Scorpius because he was hit with the Cruciatus again a second later. Scorpius buried his face in Albus’s neck to suppress his screams, and Albus hugged him tightly while he convulsed until Delphi removed the curse.

“You two are sickening,” she spat. “Just keep walking or I promise you that I will kill him.”

Scorpius stepped back and met Albus’s eyes for a silent conversation then nodded and started walking through the maze. Delphi balanced her wand in her palm and followed it in the direction of the entrance. They walked through the maze for what felt like a very long time. Scorpius reached over to take Albus’s hand, and Albus’s tense posture relaxed.

“You two really are the worst,” Delphi informed them casually after at least fifteen minutes of walking. “And you’re horrible together. Scorpius would be better off with his clever girlfriend if he weren’t so awful to her. I don’t know what it is, Scorpius, but that alternate reality clearly did a number on you. Albus Severus here is pathetic and only loves people because they boost his ego. You just make him feel better about himself when really he’s weak and powerless and should feel terrible. He only wants to steal you from his cousin to prove that he can.”

Scorpius squeezed his hand and whispered, “Ignore her.”

Albus nodded tersely and kept his eyes fixed ahead of them while Delphi continued, “What would you think if I told you that all it took was a bit of stroking his ego and Albus Severus was whimpering in my hand?”

“Probably that you should be on a sex offender registry, Delphi,” Scorpius told her. 

“What about the fact that he invited me to your tearful reunion? He wants you to think that you matter, but really the only thing that matters to someone like Albus Severus is Albus Severus.”

“I’d probably wonder why you chose to use the Cruciatus on me instead of him then,” Scorpius spat. The response silenced Delphi for a few minutes. Albus gave him a tentative, hopeful smile, and Scorpius, in spite of the fact that they really were screwed and it truly was mostly Albus’s fault, smiled back.

“Scorpius will choose his girlfriend over you, Albus Severus,” Delphi began again after a few minutes of thought. She must be bored from all the walking. “He might blame it on your dad. He might even cheat on her first, which I’m sure is what you want him to do, but he’ll end up with her in the end. She’s better than you are, and he knows that. You’re untrustworthy, self-obsessed, and so bloody dramatic. Why would anyone choose you?”

“Delphi, are you upset that Albus likes me better?” Scorpius asked. “What is it? You’ve only had one person express an interest in you in your entire life, and now he’s realized that you’re as evil as your awful father?”

“Don’t speak to me like that.”

“You’re not scary, Delphi. You may have a wand pointed at me, but I’ve met real power. You could never command a room like my grandfather. You could never torture someone like Bellatrix Lestrange. You could never be clever like Hermione. I’ve seen Harry Potter wield the Elder Wand. I’ve seen his fourteen-year-old son wield the same kind of fire-whip that Albus Dumbledore used when he beat your dad. I have seen my dad put out a fire without lifting his wand or saying a word. You’re just a little girl who has us in a hostage situation.”

“Should we talk about your dad? Your dad is pathetic. He was the weakest follower the Dark Lord ever marked. He didn’t deserve his mark. He only got it to punish your grandfather.”

“He was only weak because he didn’t want to be working for your dad!”

“Draco Malfoy follows power the way that Albus Severus follows the people who stroke his ego. He’s a human Elder Wand. Nothing more.”

“Oh, so you admit that Harry Potter is more powerful than your father was? Both my dad and the Elder Wand chose him.”

“Enough.”

“From one Voldemort’s child to another, you don’t need to support him just because you’re linked to him. You’re nothing but another one of his pathetic followers. He’s not going to respect you. He’s going to use you.”

_“Cru—“_

_“Expelliarmus!”_ someone shouted. Delphi’s wand flew out of her hand. Scorpius looked up in astonishment as the young man jogging towards them shouted, _“Brachiabindo!”_

Delphi was bound, and Cedric Diggory held a hand up to Scorpius and Albus. “Come no further.”

Scorpius and Albus exchanged a quick look. “But you’re…“

“Cedric Diggory. I heard screaming. I had to come. Name yourself, beasts. I can fight you.”

“Cedric?” Albus asked.

“You saved us,” Scorpius said distantly.

“Are you also a task? An obstacle? Speak. Do I have to defeat you too?”

“No,” said Scorpius after a long pause. “You just have to free us. That’s the task.”

Cedric frowned at him then nodded and waved his wand. _“Emancipare! Emancipare!”_

Scorpius and Albus were freed, and Scorpius immediately started to massage his wrists while staring at Cedric, who asked, “And now can I go on? Finish the maze?”

Albus almost crumpled but managed to stay strong. “I’m afraid you have to finish the maze.”

“Then I shall.”

Cedric walked away, all youth, beauty, confidence, and power. Scorpius knew he would have been an exceptional wizard if he’d grown up. He didn’t deserve to be the spare, but he had to be. Albus seemed similarly torn because he called, “Cedric,” and Cedric turned back to face him. “Your dad loves you very much.”

Cedric frowned, surprised. “What?”

“Just thought you should know that,” Albus whispered.

Cedric seemed confused. “Okay. Um. Thank you.”

He walked off, leaving Albus and Scorpius with the bound Delphi. Scorpius looked down at her just in time to see her creeping away from them. He grabbed Albus to redirect his attention, and Albus shouted, “Wait!”

“I am done with you two,” Delphi said. “Tonight is the night that I meet my father, that I protect him from making a horrible mistake.” She levitated into the air without a broom, and Scorpius pulled Albus away from her as he backed up a few paces. “You two irrelevancies can rot in the past for all I care.”

“Delphi!” Albus screamed, but she tapped herself with her wand and cast another disillusionment charm. Scorpius and Albus watched helplessly as the faint outline of a camouflaged figure flew towards the outskirts of the school, presumably to pass the apparition barrier. 

Albus looked at him in horror, and Scorpius nodded resolutely. “Okay. We can fix this. We do fix this!”

“We do fix this?” Albus asked.

“Time turners are deterministic, aren’t they? The moment she took it and made the decision to find her father, you at least should have ceased to exist. You still exist. That means that future us figure out the way to stop her in time.”

“But my dad is still alive right now?”

“But time turners are the way things are supposed to happen, aren’t they? Kind of? Rose’s mum described her experience with the time turner to me, and when she and your dad were still having their first go of it, they experienced the effects of them traveling back from the future. Her future self howled to save her past self. Our future selves did something to make sure we still exist.”

“Is that how it worked the other time we used the time turner? We changed our present tremendously.”

“But things righted themself in the end, didn’t they? Maybe they were always supposed to go back to normal.”

“Okay, I don’t understand, and I’m not sure that this logic is airtight, but I’m glad to exist, so let’s figure out whatever plan ultimately saves me.”

Albus looked at Scorpius expectantly, waiting for him to come up with a plan. It was either laziness or Albus' understanding that he came up with dreadful plans, but Scorpius appreciated it nonetheless. “Alright, first thing’s first, we need to get out of this maze.”

“Right,” said Albus. “And we can’t just walk out the front, and we don’t have wands to force our way through the back again.”

“That’s a problem, yes. Hm. So what do we need? We need wands, but we can’t take any of the contestants’ wands, or we’d change history. We need a working time turner.”

Albus considered this deeply. “Well, we could take one of the contestants’ wands? Doesn’t Fleur Delacour fail out really fast?”

“I think it might alter history if Fleur discovered that someone stole her wand.”

“Well,” said Albus. “I hate to say this, but one of the contestants dies, so… they could just pin it on him.”

“Ruthless,” said Scorpius appreciatively. “Alright, Albus. One of your best ideas to date.”

Albus beamed at him. “And I know where we can get a working time turner.”

“I think my grandfather will be in the graveyard soon. We could break into Malfoy Manor? Maybe he’s already developing it. He’d have to have it by now, right? He’s going to lose all his power in a year.”

Albus seemed even more pleased. “We don’t need to break into Malfoy Manor! The Department of Mysteries is full of them, isn’t it?”

Scorpius gasped. “It’s 1995! Time turners still exist!”

“There could be one in Dumbledore’s office for all we know.”

“But we’re sure they have them in the Ministry, and a school-approved turner probably wouldn't have enough power to get us all the way back to the present,” Scorpius pointed out. “Okay, Albus. Really good stuff. We need to get Fleur’s wand and get to the Ministry to steal a time turner.”

Someone was stomping through the maze, running at full speed, and it couldn’t be Cedric. Fleur had probably already failed. Krum had gotten Imperiused and wouldn’t be running with such purpose. Albus shot Scorpius a terrified look, and without thinking too much about where he could go from here, Scorpius shoved Albus hard into a hedge that welcomed him greedily.

He had reacted just quickly enough. Scorpius spun around to meet a fourteen-year-old Harry Potter, who halted in his tracks to gape at him. Scorpius attempted to look nonchalant as Harry said, “Malfoy? Why are you here?”

Scorpius inhaled deeply and decided to just go for it. It was the best option he had at the moment. He shifted his perfect posture into a haughty, relaxed stance, lifted his chin, and drawled in his poshest accent, “Yes, Potter, it’s me.”

Harry seemed stunned and a bit impatient. “Malfoy, if you wanted to be a champion, you’re a bit late to the game.”

“Champion is such a silly name, isn’t it? When really you are just a failure, aren’t you? Potter stinks, so they say.”

“I’m in first place, actually, so could you get out of my way?”

“Ah, but you must defeat me first,” said Scorpius.

“Defeat you?”

“Yes, because I am actually… a boggart.”

“Malfoy, you’re - no, you aren’t.”

“Yes, I am, Potter. I’m your boggart.”

“I’m sure you’d love to be my greatest fear, but honestly I feel more at ease now that I’m faced with something so unthreatening.”

Scorpius melted temporarily and put a hand to his heart. “I make you feel more at ease?”

“This is ridiculous,” Harry told him.

“Ridiculous!” Scorpius repeated, delighted by his luck, and started to tap dance poorly.

“I didn’t wave my wand!” Harry shouted. “Okay, I’m done here. Move aside.”

Scorpius tap danced to the side, and Harry gave him one final repulsed look before continuing on his way. Scorpius stopped dancing and breathed out a sigh of relief before setting to wrestling Albus out of the hedges. Albus clung to him desperately once he’d fought his way out of the hedges, and Scorpius smiled down at him. Albus grinned back disbelievingly. “I cannot believe that worked.”

“And now we’ve slowed down Cedric and Harry equally!”

“Your impression of your father is astonishing,” said Albus. “Boggart, even better.”

“I can’t believe that I look that much like how he looked in fourth year.”

“My dad was probably in a hurry.” In the distance, a girl screamed, and Albus shoved at Scorpius. “That way!”

They sprinted through the maze until they found Fleur’s unconscious body. Albus shot Scorpius a wary look and then squatted down to search her pockets until he emerged with a wand. He handed it to Scorpius immediately. “You should use it.”

“Maybe it likes you,” Scorpius pointed out. “Give it a try. You’re the reason we found it.”

Albus smiled at him and tested the wand. Scorpius tried it afterwards, and it did prefer Albus. Albus seemed tentatively proud then deflated. “Do you know a disillusionment charm?”

“It’s a pretty advanced spell,” said Scorpius. “I think we might just need to make a run for the trees and try to get to Hogsmeade without anyone seeing us.”

Albus nodded, and they took off at a run again for the edge of the maze. Albus managed to blow a hole through it, and they emerged about a hundred yards from the Forbidden Forest. Scorpius pushed at him hurriedly, perhaps too quickly because he was taken completely by surprise by the sight of two men speaking quietly on the outskirts of the grounds. Albus froze in his tracks within earshot of the professors.

“... absolutely ridiculous to think that he should be in there,” spat Severus Snape. “The mark is growing stronger. You were the one to tell me that his scar has been hurting. He is in the one place on the grounds where we are helpless to protect him.”

“We didn’t have a choice, Severus,” Albus Dumbledore responded calmly. “He is bound to participate in the competition.”

“There must have been a way around it!”

“He’s handled himself very well. I have faith that he will continue to impress us.”

“You seem impressed with him for tying his shoes correctly.”

“I’m sure he ties his shoes very admirably indeed, Severus. Forgive me but I had never taken the time to examine them.”

“Absurd.” Snape was quiet for a moment then asked, reluctantly, “Have we any word of how he’s faring?”

“He and Cedric are the only two champions left in the maze.”

“Wonderful, then Hogwarts has won. Call it off now.”

“Have faith, Severus. He will not face anything that he can’t handle.”

Albus grabbed Scorpius’s sleeve to pull him towards the trees, and Scorpius allowed himself to be led away. Albus accidentally snapped a twig, and Dumbledore looked over Snape’s shoulder to examine the two of them. Scorpius and Albus both stared back at him and willed themselves not to look like their fathers. Dumbledore’s brow furrowed, and then he touched Snape’s arm and gestured in the opposite direction. “Did I see sparks over there, or are my eyes betraying me?”

Scorpius and Albus both sprinted for the trees as Dumbledore distracted Snape. Safely in the cover of the Forbidden Forest, they stopped to catch their breath. Scorpius was awestruck by the presence of two of his personal heroes, and Albus seemed unable to comprehend that he had just seen his two namesakes. “That was them,” he whispered.

“Snape and Dumbledore, in the flesh!”

“Dumbledore saw us,” Albus whispered. His eyes lit up. “We can ask him for help then, can’t we?”

“I think he’s not sure what he saw, and I don’t think we should confirm it. Besides, how could we get him alone?”

“Not sure what he saw, Scorpius? My dad accepted that you were Draco Malfoy without a second thought. And you saw my dad! It was uncanny. I’m a scar and glasses away from being him.”

“We can do this on our own, Albus. We have to do this on our own. We have a wand. We just need to get from Scotland to London. Is it… is it far? We could try hitchhiking. Rose taught me about it when she lent me their Guide to the Galaxy.”

Albus frowned thoughtfully, apparently unmoved by a reference to Rose. “Would the Knight Bus come to the Forbidden Forest?”

Scorpius was deeply impressed. “No, but I think it would come to Hogsmeade! Three for three, Albus!”

“My plans aren’t always terrible,” he said petulantly.

“No, just usually,” Scorpius said playfully. They were once again trapped in a dire situation, but the whole thing felt so natural, as if they hadn’t spent months avoiding each other and didn’t have confusing but openly acknowledged feelings on which neither of them were sure how to act. Scorpius felt like himself again. Part of him was a bit relieved by Delphi’s revelation; he had considered the possibility that the horcrux had awoken the part of him inherited from Voldemort. He still had to figure out what was happening to him but was very reassured to discover that it did not relate to him being the second coming.

They had a long walk ahead of them if they wanted to stay out of sight on the whole journey to Hogsmeade, so Scorpius, excited to be able to get this off his chest to someone, began to describe what had happened when he’d held the horcrux. Albus’s wide-eyed gaze never wavered as he gave him background on the alternate reality and recounted the meeting in the Shrieking Shack.

“I can’t believe all of that happened to you,” Albus breathed. “You seem very… you’ve seemed different, since it happened. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Scorpius said quickly. “Not all of the changes are bad! I think I’m a lot more confident in my magical ability. Sirius used to make me train with him most nights. It was basically all he ever did.”

“Sirius,” Albus repeated, sounding disgruntled.

Scorpius chewed the inside of his lip thoughtfully then said, “Hey, Albus, there’s something else that happened that I haven’t been able to tell anyone about.”

Albus seemed worried. “Yeah?”

“Sirius and the other Scorpius, they were dating,” he confessed. “And I sort of… picked up where the other Scorpius left off, I guess.”

Albus was shocked. “You hooked up with Asian Albus?”

“That wasn’t - no, okay, he was a different person.”

“I really didn’t realize that you actually… did you enjoy it?”

Scorpius paused. “I wouldn’t have done it otherwise. But I was very confused! Rose didn’t exist, and you were gone, and I was just thinking about what happened to you and how I’d get you back and if you’d be mad if I told you about this and how much of you was inside Sirius.”

“How much of _you_ was inside Sirius?”

“Cheap. Cheap and dirty. Cheap and dirty Albus.”

Albus considered this. “So you were thinking about me the whole time?”

“I, not like - Albus. I’m always thinking about you.”

He expected Albus to smile, but he just looked upset. “I can’t believe you’d cheat on Rose with someone who isn’t me.”

“Is it cheating if she didn’t exist?”

“Yes,” said Albus confidently. He gestured at the world around them. “She doesn’t exist right now, does she? You’re still loyal.”

“That’s because anything that happened with me and Sirius was never going to be that serious,” Scorpius argued. “And I have complete faith that we’re going to be able to save the present. It was hard to hope that I was going to be able to set things right without a time turner or consistent access to my wand. Sirius… he was awful sometimes, like really terrible, but he helped. I’m sure he was no worse than I was in that world.”

Albus rubbed his jaw. “I really never thought you’d get all this experience that I don’t have, you know?”

“If I’d thought about it, I would’ve guessed that you’d be the first one of us to get a girlfriend,” Scorpius admitted. “It’s been such a weird - ever since Sirius and the horcrux and the alternate reality in general, the only two things I really feel have been rage and lust. It’s better than the alternative.”

“Don’t say ‘lust’, ew,” said Albus. “That’s very… I mean, it’s just not what I’d expect from you.”

“I don’t feel like myself most of the time,” Scorpius said. “Honestly, I wanted to talk to your mom.”

“Because of the diary?”

“I, yeah - Albus, I’ve been losing time. I wake up in weird places. Something bad is happening to me, and everyone thinks I’m evil because of the rumors and your dad, so I’m so afraid to admit it to anyone who could help. Rose helps. Sex, it… it doesn’t really make me feel like myself, but it doesn’t make me feel evil, either. This is the first time I’ve really felt like myself since I’ve gotten back.”

Albus stopped walking and grabbed Scorpius’s arm, pulling him to a stop. “Please choose me, Scorpius, when we get back. I know I need to figure out what to do about my dad, and I know Rose is better than I am, but it kills me to see you or think of you with anyone else.”

“Albus, I was already planning to break up with Rose. She deserves a lot better than me. As for us, though, I mean - you knew that the time turner could land me and my dad in Azkaban, or at least kicked out of Hogwarts, and you invited Delphi anyway. You chose her side at almost every opportunity. I don’t… I don’t think I trust you.”

Albus swallowed thickly. “But you told me all those things you wouldn’t tell anyone else.”

“Yeah,” said Scorpius. “Yeah, I did.”

“You want me too.”

“Can we please get back to the present and talk about it there?”

“But what if we can’t—“

“You mean what if your dad is still forbidding you to speak to me?” Scorpius asked meanly. “I guess that’s part of the issue, isn’t it?”

He started walking, and Albus jogged ahead quickly to keep step. “Okay,” said Albus. “We’re almost at a place where we can summon the Knight Bus. We’ll go to London, and then what? We’ll need wands to get through to the Ministry. Delphi used the Confundus before, but I don’t think I can do that.”

“I’ll try,” Scorpius said tersely. “Can you just let me think for a little bit, Albus?”

Albus looked crestfallen but nodded and kept his head down until they reached Hogsmeade. He summoned the Knight Bus by holding up the wand as if hailing a car, and they both waited in tense, awkward silence until it arrived and Albus gave directions for a gastropub near the Ministry of Magic. Albus looked to Scorpius desperately when they asked for fare, and he rummaged around in his pockets until he emerged with two galleons and handed them over with a grateful sigh.

The chairs were moving all over the place, and after a few crashes and one capsizing, Albus and Scorpius decided to sit on the floor in the back corner of the bus where they could at least be steady. Albus wasn’t speaking to him, and after a moment’s debate, Scorpius wrapped his arm around him and pulled him against him. Albus melted into his chest immediately, and Scorpius felt his breathing quicken into panicked gasps and then slow down again into long, controlled inhales and exhales. A witch got off at a stop near London, and Albus raised his face to look at Scorpius. Scorpius looked down at him at the same time and found their faces so close that their noses touched. Albus looked so devastated and simultaneously hopeful that Scorpius’s heart broke. He angled his face up to press a kiss to Albus’s forehead and then down his face. Albus gripped his waist tightly and lolled his head back to expose his throat, which Scorpius kissed and sucked until the Knight Bus arrived at their stop. It came at a crucial moment because Albus’s hand had migrated from his waist to his inner thigh and had been sliding intentionally upwards. Scorpius had been a second away from spreading his legs when the conductor called the fake names that Albus had given him, and they both jumped up.

They ducked into a side street to readjust and collect their wits, neither one of them able to meet the other’s eyes and both blushing furiously, then Albus said, “We should take our robes off.”

Scorpius gave him an astonished look, and Albus explained, “the muggles. We’re surrounded by muggles.”

“Oh, right,” said Scorpius, already shrugging off his robes. “Until we get to the Ministry, yes.”

“I was also thinking - are you committed to being your dad?”

“I think I’m sort of bound to being my dad,” Scorpius said. “Your dad guessed who I was without me needing to prompt him.”

After some consideration, they popped into a muggle pharmacy to buy him hair gel and, a bit unnecessarily but enjoyably, played with some makeup samples to strengthen his cheekbones. Scorpius paused in front of a display of glasses and called, “Albus, do you want to be your dad? We could draw on the scar.”

He held up a pair of glasses that Albus regarded derisively. He checked the label and said, “Scorpius, I think at least one person in the Ministry will realize that the most famous wizard alive doesn’t have his scar drawn on in Sharpie and doesn’t wear ‘pink-tinted John Lennon glasses’.”

Albus put them on, and Scorpius beamed at him. “You look like those Hufflepuffs who hang out behind the greenhouses.”

“The stoners?” Albus asked. 

“Yes, them.”

“I think I’ve seen Lysander wearing these exact glasses.”

“You’re in great company, then.”

“I think that I’ll just be your foreign cousin who doesn’t speak the language.”

“Probably best,” Scorpius admitted.

Full of hair gel and cheekbones, Scorpius followed Albus to the visitor’s entrance of the Ministry, where he announced that Draco Malfoy and Jeffrey Bundy had arrived. Scorpius wrinkled his nose and whispered, “Why was the first name you could think based on muggle serial killers?”

“Because Lily is a psychopath,” Albus whispered. “The names stuck in my head.”

Scorpius accepted his Draco Malfoy badge and took the wand from Albus with the intention of confunding whomever was in charge of the wand check. He ended up not needing his wand, however, as a dark-haired man, heavyset and intimidating, strode purposefully out of the lifts and stopped in his tracks at the sight of Scorpius. “You, boy,” he said roughly, crossing the room to grab Scorpius’s arm. “You’re Lucius’s boy?”

“I am,” Scorpius drawled, yanking his arm away. “And I’d thank you not to grab me like that.”

“Where’s he off to, then? Are you here to see him? We were in the middle of an important meeting, and he left to grab some documents and never returned.”

Scorpius nodded, very aware of where his grandfather must have gone. “Yes, I can lead you to him. Shall we?”

The man grunted and ushered them back to the lifts. The witch working the wand checkpoint called, “Excuse me!” and the man snapped, “It’s fine. He’s just Lucius’s boy.”

The man jabbed the button for the fourth floor and settled back against the wall. He sneered at Scorpius before looking over to Albus. For a second, he seemed confused and asked, “Who’s this one?”

“My cousin,” explained Scorpius. “On my mother’s side.”

“Hm.”

“And I don’t know where you’re bringing me, but my father would be on level nine,” Scorpius said. 

“Level nine?” he repeated. “What business does Lucius Malfoy have on level nine?”

“What business do you have asking me a question like that?”

The man glared at him then pushed another button, and Scorpius felt himself relaxing somewhat. Any sense of peace abruptly vanished as the lift doors opened and a squat woman dressed in all pink entered the lift. Albus pressed himself against the wall as if trying to get away from her, and Scorpius smiled at her in an attempt to disguise his worry.

“Durward, hello,” said Dolores Umbridge. She looked at Scorpius with a rather puzzled expression. “You’re Lucius’s boy, are you?”

“I am, yes, Ms. Umbridge,” said Scorpius, who decided quickly that flattery would be the best route for the situation. He extended a hand, which she shook. “Draco Malfoy. And may I say that I am an incredible fan of your work with half-breeds.” He lowered his voice, and she leaned in curiously. “Could you possibly believe that Dumbledore knowingly employed a werewolf last year? It’s as if he has no regard for our safety.”

“Oh, Remus Lupin was not the only half-breed on staff,” she said, apparently pleased with Scorpius’s knowledge of her work. “I assure you that the Ministry is quite aware of the many failures of Albus Dumbledore.”

“And to keep a forest full of horrible creatures so close to us,” Scorpius continued. “I await the day when the Ministry benevolently intervenes on our behalf.”

She beamed at him. “You have a very good head on your shoulders, Mr. Malfoy. Your father taught you well.”

“Yes, he did,” Scorpius agreed. 

She focused on Albus. “And who is this with you?”

“My cousin,” Scorpius said. “But he doesn’t speak English, and even if he did, he’s a bit… underdeveloped, might be the word? Slow. He’s a simpleton.”

“Oh, how tragic,” said Umbridge. “You know who he rather looks like?”

“Yes, if you’d believe it, he’s been stopped on the street before for the resemblance.”

“But no nasty scar,” said Umbridge. “And where is he from?”

“Toulouse,” Scorpius answered quickly. 

Dolores extended a hand to Albus and spoke very slowly, as if that would make someone understand a foreign language, “I am Dolores Umbridge.”

Albus gave her a confused look and smacked their hands together. Scorpius had to hide a smile behind his hand as the lift doors opened, and the four of them stepped out. Umbridge said something quietly to Durward, and Scorpius leaned in to whisper, “You need to go get the time turner, and I’ll say you wandered off.”

Albus hid his mouth behind a fist and said, “And how am I to break into the Department of Mysteries?”

“Breaking into the Ministry is in your blood. Wait until they’re distracted and go.”

Scorpius smiled pleasantly as Umbridge and Durward focused on him again. Umbridge seemed concerned as she asked, “Are you looking for your father down here, Draco?”

“This was where I was led to believe that he would be. He said something about… a muggle motorized grass cutter that’s been enchanted to destroy our grounds? But that doesn’t make sense, does it?”

“No, not at all,” said Dolores. “But you’re aware that this is the Department of Mysteries? What business would he have down here?”

“It sounds like he’s looking for Arthur Weasley’s department,” said Durward. “Leave it to Lucius Malfoy to make a simple problem much more important than it needs to be.”

“Excuse me,” said Scorpius.

“You speak out of turn, Durward,” said Dolores. “Lucius Malfoy has always been an asset to the Ministry and the greater wizarding community. Perhaps you got your floors confused? Misuse of Muggle Artifacts would be on level two.”

“Hold on,” said Durward. “Where’s your cousin gotten off to?”

“Oh!” Scorpius looked around wildly. “I’m so sorry. He just wanders off sometimes. He doesn’t understand.”

“He probably just wanted to use the loo, Durward. A simpleton like him has no chance of accidentally straying into the Department of Mysteries.”

“The loo is inside the Department of Mysteries,” he hissed.

“I did always wonder,” said Scorpius, “why Hogwarts has never offered any kind of political science option, Ms. Umbridge? As working for the Ministry is the most noble field imaginable, surely it would be helpful to educate us young, and I can’t think of anyone who would be better to teach us than you.”

“Well, Draco, between you and me, I have every intention of teaching at Hogwarts,” she whispered conspiratorially.

Scorpius smiled at her. “I can’t wait for that pigsty of a school to finally have a teacher worthy of learning from.”

They spoke about Defense Against the Dark Arts and Ministry politics until Durward got frustrated and left them. Shortly thereafter, Albus reappeared, gave Scorpius a curt nod, and tapped his chest where the time turner must be on a chain. Dolores spoke to him in the same slow, overly enunciated manner until a paper plane flew out of the lift in her direction. She unfolded it and gaped grotesquely at the frantically scrawled message before crumpling it up and forcing a smile at Scorpius. “Well, Draco, it was lovely to speak with you. I cannot wait to get to know you more as you begin what is sure to be an illustrious Ministry career.”

Then she raced away, leaving Albus to whisper, “Looks like Voldemort is back.”

“Did you get it?” Scorpius demanded.

Albus smiled. “My dad made breaking into the Ministry seem much harder than it really is.”

Scorpius looked around then gestured for Albus to wrap the chain around his neck. He stepped closer to accommodate the necklace, and Albus twisted the time turner backwards to deposit them in the direction whence they came. Time played a game of red rover, spoke in tongues, accidentally spilled water on its laptop, and slowed down to drop them in the present.

Albus unlooped the time turner and looked around. “Hermione’s office will have a Floo.”

“Right,” said Scorpius, already hurrying to the lift.

It was late afternoon when they left, and Hermione was still in her office. Scorpius wasn’t sure how everything had remained so unchanged with Delphi in the past with a time turner, but nothing seemed to have changed at all. After a short conversation, Scorpius and Albus knocked on Hermione’s door.

Hermione greeted them with a shocked look before beckoning them both inside. Albus looked to Scorpius, and Scorpius explained, “Please, Mrs. Granger-Weasley, don’t tell Albus’s dad that we’re together. We really, just - well, the thing is that we held onto the time turner. I don’t know why we lied, but we really want to make sure it goes to an adult that we trust. I thought maybe it would be best for as few people to know about it as possible.”

Albus took off the time turner and handed it to Hermione solemnly, who stared down at it in shock. “Scorpius, this was a big lie to keep for so long.”

“I made him do it!” Albus said. “Well, I - I told him to hang onto it, and then we were forbidden from talking, so he just kept holding onto it. But his dad didn’t know, and he only did it because I told him to.”

“Relax, Albus. I’m not going to get Scorpius in trouble. I’m very flattered that you’d bring this to me, and I’m glad you’ve decided to come clean.” She frowned. “You didn’t use it again, did you? I see your - well, Scorpius’s hair - it evokes some memories.”

“No,” Albus lied immediately. “That’s just a style he is butchering. No, we just - we hadn’t been able to discuss until now. We want you to have it.”

Hermione nodded. “Candidly, Albus, I don’t think it’s in Scorpius’s best interest for the two of you to speak right now. I’m glad you decided to give up the time turner, and I hope you both know that you can trust me to protect you, but there are some things that I can’t help with. Your dad has really only asked one thing of you, and we need to respect his wishes.”

Albus nodded glumly. “I won’t do it again. I was - I hadn’t talked to him since before the first time turner.”

“I understand and sympathize completely,” she assured him. “But now you’ve handed it over, and you’ve had time to talk, so I think it’s best to wait for everything to blow over.”

“We get it,” said Scorpius. “Could we use your Floo? We could go back to my dad’s office.”

Hermione sighed and reached into her desk to pull out a bowl of Floo powder. Albus went first and was already holding eye contact with his white-faced father when Scorpius rolled out of the Floo. Scorpius’s dad looked between the two of them in alarm several times before settling on Albus. He looked angrier than Scorpius had ever seen him, and Albus seemed terrified to be the recipient of Scorpius’s dad’s rage, although Scorpius personally thought that Albus was only so concerned because he’d never been the recipient of _Albus’s_ dad’s rage. Scorpius’s dad would never do anything to a child besides make a few nasty comments. 

His dad inhaled shakily then blew the air out. “I didn’t expect you to understand, Albus, the immense risk that you pose to my family. I was impressed that you were able to respect your father’s rules for so long, but if you ever come near Scorpius again while your father has forbade it, then I will Obliviate him right out of your memory, do you understand?”

“Dad,” said Scorpius. “You’d never do that.”

“And I didn’t think Albus’s dad would ever threaten my son with Azkaban, but he did! Do you even care, Albus? When someone calls Scorpius Voldemort’s son, it isn’t like being called Slytherin Squib. He could get in serious trouble. He has enemies he doesn’t even know about. It is unspeakably selfish to put him in this position.”

“I understand,” said Albus, sounding like he was fighting back tears. “I under - I won’t - bye, Scorpius,” he said and hurried out of the office.

Scorpius tried to follow, but his father yelled, “Halt!” and Scorpius froze.

His dad appraised him coldly. “What’s in your hair?”

“I was trying out a new style.”

“Bullshit. You’re trying to look like me when I was your age, which can only mean that you went to the past again, didn’t you? I seem to recall Dolores Umbridge acting as if she knew me when I was sure she didn’t. Didn’t you learn your lesson the first time?”

“Did I learn my lesson the first time?” Scorpius repeated. “Yes! Of course I did!”

“I did not raise you to be this irresponsible. Did you notice that Albus has love bites on his neck? Are you stupid? Harry Potter aside, you have an absolutely wonderful girlfriend. Are you trying to self-destruct? What’s going on with you?”

“Love bites?” Scorpius repeated. “No, I - I didn’t - we didn’t do anything!”

“He had hickeys, Scorpius! Of all the disgusting teenage things to do.”

“Okay, yes, I did make those, but we didn’t kiss or do anything else.”

“I see how you rationalized that, but I hope you understand that that’s ridiculous,” his father spat. “I don’t understand you at all anymore. You used to - you used to read and study and be optimistic, and now you’re so angry all the time, and all sources report that you and Rose have the most audacious public displays of affection that Hogwarts has ever seen and you’re giving Albus Potter hickeys at the same time. Who are you?”

“I don’t know,” Scorpius whispered. His voice cracked, and his shoulders slumped. “I - dad, something is going on. I’m just - I’m always so angry, and the only time I ever feel like myself is when I - when I’m with Rose. I’ve been losing time. I wake up sometimes in the Forbidden Forest with scratches all over myself like I - like I’ve been looking for something, on my hands and knees, and I’ve woken up once accidentally stepping into the Great Lake. I feel this pull to them, and to Hufflepuff basement, which I guess might be night-eating, but I don't actually do that, and the other two are not so easily explained. I bought a Rememberall, and all it’s told me is that I’m forgetting a lot. I’m really scared, dad.”

Scorpius’s dad looked panicked when Scorpius met his eyes again. “Scorpius, why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“Because I thought I was evil! I thought I was Voldemort’s kid, and you’d been lying, but then I - Albus and I, we met Voldemort’s kid. He had a daughter, dad. She exists. And she - she forced us to go back in time, and I thought she was going to do something, but everything is the same. What’s changed? Harry Potter is alive. Albus exists. You all have the same jobs.”

“Voldemort has a daughter,” his dad said blankly.

“Delphi, yes.”

“The girl Albus liked?”

“Yes.”

“And you… we can’t tell Harry Potter,” his father realized.

“No, I was thinking the same thing.”

“But she hasn’t done anything in the past?”

“No.”

Scorpius’s father was quiet for a long time before he whispered again, “We can’t tell Harry.”

“Not if we want to seem like I’ve been staying away from Albus.”

“You know, Scorpius, that if you’d had a little control over your anger, we could just convince him that _she_ was the dark cloud around Albus.”

“She probably was the dark cloud around Albus!” Scorpius realized.

“Yes, I agree, and now Albus knows to stay away from her, so that’s been settled. Harry Potter is concerned about you, and you trying to convince him that someone he’s never met is a bigger threat isn’t going to convince him that it’s safe to have you around his son.”

“What if we say nothing, and then she does something horrible?” Scorpius whispered.

His dad frowned thoughtfully then met Scorpius’s eyes and said, in the sentence that would change his image of his father the reformed man forever, “Then it’s our word against hers if she tries to claim that you were complicit.”

Scorpius nodded vaguely and pointed to the door. “I need to - I need to do something.”

His dad looked troubled. “Are you going to end things with Rose anyway?”

“I think I have to,” Scorpius admitted. “It’s the right thing to do.”

“It is,” he agreed. “But Scorpius, Albus - he’s not coming back anytime soon, and even if he was, I don’t think you could trust him.”

“I’m not doing it because of Albus,” Scorpius said confidently. “I’m doing it because Rose deserves a lot better than me. I promise that I’ll stay away from Albus.”

“Rose is the best thing in your life, Scorpius.”

“She’s not a thing, though, is she? Maybe it’ll be good for me to have some time to figure out what’s going on with me. I have a lot to think about.”

His dad regarded him suspiciously and said, “Just promise you’ll stay away from Albus.”

“I promise,” Scorpius said. “Until Harry Potter says it’s okay, I will not so much as look at Albus again.”

*

The breakup was easier than Scorpius would have thought. He and Rose settled under a tree on the grounds the next afternoon in a patch that Scorpius had again cleared of all snow, dried, and warmed. He was using his father’s wand until his new one arrived specially ordered; they couldn’t let anyone know that he had lost his wand because him and Albus losing their wands at the same time was simply too coincidental.

Rose settled down next to him and whispered, “Did you see that Albus has love bites on his neck? So immature. It’s such an easy spell to get rid of them.”

“I think that some people like the reminder,” Scorpius said hesitantly. He liked the idea that Albus enjoyed seeing proof of Scorpius sucking on his neck every time he looked in the mirror. He was at least taking some steps to hide them; it was easily scarf weather, and Albus wore his even indoors. Most students knew what that meant, but the professors pretended not to.

“I think he probably couldn’t manage the spell,” Rose said.

“That too,” Scorpius agreed. “Hey, Rose, I… we should talk.”

Rose froze. “So ominous.”

“I think that… Rose, you are so amazing. You are the best person I’ve met in my entire life. I have no idea how I was ever lucky enough to get to be with you.”

“Scorpius, don’t do this.”

“I have to,” he whispered. “Rose, you’re incredible, and you deserve much better than me.”

“Are you the person who kissed Albus?” she whispered. At Scorpius’s silence, her eyes widened in horror. “You are!”

“No, I - we didn’t kiss, Rose, I promise! I would never do that to you. I - I owed you that much, at least, but I… really wanted to.”

“Albus,” she whispered. “Bloody unbelievable, Scorpius. He’s barely a wizard.”

“That doesn’t really matter.”

“Albus! He acts like he owns you. You should hear how possessive he is of you, when _we’ve_ been together for a year. He doesn’t think of you like an independent person.”

“It’s not really about Albus though.”

“It is, though! It is about Albus! You’re breaking up with me because of my horrible, incompetent cousin! I had been led to believe that you loved me, Scorpius. We lost our virginities to each other, in case you’d forgotten. It was quite lovely.”

“I do, Rose, I really love you, and I love being with you, but you’re exactly right that the amount that I care about Albus isn’t fair to you because honestly you are better than he is, at everything, and you should be with someone who would never compare you to him.”

Rose scoffed and crossed her arms. “I absolutely cannot believe that Albus gets to win.”

“I can’t even talk to Albus.”

“You don’t have to talk to him to give him horrible, disgusting hickeys all over his neck, do you?”

“I am so sorry that that happened, but the circumstances were very intense.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “I’m sure he hatched some horrible plan that almost killed you and destroyed reality, didn’t he?”

“Yes, exactly that.”

“He’s awful, Scorpius!” Rose grabbed his wrist and looked at him intently. “We’re over. I get that. We’re not coming back from this, but Albus… he’s terrible, and you deserve much better than him. He’s weak and self-absorbed and spiteful. He’ll never put you first. He’ll never stand up to his dad for you. He’s jealous that we had the kind of relationship that he could never have, so he tried to sabotage it, but that’s it. He only cares about himself. You will always be a sidekick in his mind, someone for him to blame for why he isn’t cooler or more successful, when you are amazing, Scorpius. You are strong and kind and beautiful and clever, and I loved being with you and can’t stand the idea of seeing you waste all of that on Albus.”

“That’s very - that’s really nice, Rose, but I just don’t agree that Albus is those things. And I don’t - we owe it to ourselves to have our breakup not be about Albus, don’t we?”

Rose sighed. “I didn’t even know you liked boys.”

“I, in the alternate universe - I did some things with Sirius Potter.”

“Oh! So you’re projecting a Harry Potter fetish on Albus. That makes more sense. James is actually the one to have inherited his abilities, but Albus got his face, so that’s a draw, I guess.”

“It’s not about Harry Potter,” Scorpius insisted. “I like boys too.”

“You very much seemed to like girls when we were together, Scorpius. It is not so easily faked.”

“I like both. I really, really like you, Rose. I love you, obviously, but I mean, you’re gorgeous and very good at… all the things that we’ve done.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “I’m going to tell everyone that we broke up because you’re gay, alright? So even if you don’t end up with Albus, you’re not allowed to date any more girls while you’re at Hogwarts, okay?”

“I, yes - that seems fair. I promise. I think that, you know, everyone is very aware that I’m not gay, but I will go along with any explanation you want to give for the breakup.”

“So magnanimous,” Rose said sarcastically. She stood up and frowned down at him. “Well, Scorpius, you’ve made a gigantic mistake. I hope it pans out well for you.”


	16. Quidditch / Enter Snakeman (January 2017)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for drug use and really regrettable Metallica-inspired wordplay in the title.

It felt wrong to keep the secret of Delphi’s identity to himself. Scorpius’s understanding of the logic of time travel had been challenged greatly over the past year, but he couldn’t think of a way in which Delphi’s potential alteration of the past wouldn’t yet affect them. Had something changed that he didn’t know about? Maybe. Probably. Fortunately for the state of the world, and unfortunately for Scorpius, he was called to stay behind after the next Defense class. Scorpius shot an alarmed look at Albus, who avoided his eyes just as he had for the entire lesson. 

Scorpius lingered in the classroom as the students cleared out. Karl shot him a smug ‘dead man walking’-type smile, and Ezra patted him on the shoulder briefly as if he genuinely thought that Professor Potter was about to kill him. Rose, who had been ignoring both Scorpius and Albus for the entire lesson (the rest of the Gryffindors seemed relieved to return to the natural order of things, in which Scorpius Malfoy and Albus Potter were their enemies and prime targets) even spared a sympathetic, ‘I told you so but wish I weren’t so right’ look for Scorpius. But Albus, who must be the reason that Scorpius was about to get expelled, didn’t even look at him. 

Professor Potter motioned for him to sit across from his desk, and Scorpius dragged his feet as he complied. Professor Potter stared at him silently until Scorpius broke and said, “I know why you asked me to hang back.”

“Why did I ask you to hang back, Scorpius?”

“Because I didn’t stay away from Albus.”

“Is that the only thing you think I called you here to discuss?”

“No,” Scorpius said reluctantly.

“You saved the time turner,” Professor Potter said. “You saved the time turner. You used it with my son. You let a person who Albus identified as Voldemort’s daughter run off with it, and you returned back without a scrape on you. And then you didn’t admit to any of it.”

Scorpius hung his head. “That is correct.”

“Albus seemed to think that blaming this Delphini person would equate to your innocence,” Professor Potter told him. Scorpius looked up hopefully. “Albus also did not work in law enforcement for over ten years.”

“Oh.”

“What I see is that you are willing to lie to protect yourself, that you learned nothing from your first experience with time travel, and that you’ve found some kind of accomplice in an attempt to redirect my attention. Am I close?”

“Close, yes,” said Scorpius slowly. “I didn’t… I had nothing to do with that woman. Albus met her at your house! I don’t have an accomplice because I’m not doing anything, I swear! She is actually Voldemort’s daughter, and we should all be actually concerned about her.”

“Then why wouldn’t you come to me about it the moment you got back?” Professor Potter asked doubtfully. “Did you think the problem would go away if you ignored it, or did you think that you and Albus could handle it yourself?”

“I was disoriented, and I had some personal stuff I had to deal with! Figuring out what to do about her is now my top priority.”

“Well, I’m sure we can all feel much safer knowing that Scorpius Malfoy has made her his top priority.” Professor Potter leaned back and regarded him coldly. “Every person in my life has asked me to let go of my suspicions about you.”

“Oh, that’s… that’s nice,” said Scorpius awkwardly because it did not sound like Professor Potter was gearing up to say ‘so I will’.

“Do you know when the last time that happened to me was? When everyone was telling me that my suspicions were unfounded and ridiculous?”

“I do not,” said Scorpius, who could guess where this was going.

“When I wanted someone to believe me that your father had taken the dark mark. I had spent my entire fifth year dealing with the Ministry and Prophet denying that Voldemort was back, and by sixth year, everyone knew I had been telling the truth. And still, when I tried to tell people about my suspicions about your father, people still didn’t believe me. So I once again had to get the proof myself.”

Scorpius’s eyes narrowed. “And at what point in this charming story of your detective work and brilliant gut instincts did you accidentally almost kill him, Professor Potter?”

“After he’d accidentally almost killed my teammate and best friend, but before he intentionally almost killed Dumbledore.”

Scorpius breathed in and out very carefully. His father really did not make it easy for Scorpius to argue his innocence. Professor Potter tapped his finger on the table, waiting for a response, but Scorpius didn’t have anything to offer, so he continued, “I’ll make this easy on both of us. I could get you expelled, but I’m going to upset a lot of people that I care about very much if I do that. I was very relieved to hear that you’re no longer dating my niece, and you’re going to continue avoiding my son.”

“Yes!” agreed Scorpius quickly. He didn’t fancy talking to Albus after yet another betrayal anyway. “Yes, I can do that, sir.”

“That’s not it,” Professor Potter said. He summoned what looked like a flight of empty glass vials. “I want your memories. All of them involving Dephini. All of them from the alternate universe. All of them from the third task. If anything seems wrong about them, I will not hesitate to use Veritaserum on you.”

Scorpius blenched. “Professor Potter, I can give you the Delphi memories, but some of those other memories are quite personal.”

“Are you refusing? I want all the memories and will check them for any gaps or disparities.”

“Are you allowed to ask me to do this?” Scorpius whispered. “Surely you need some kind of warrant.”

“I’m allowed to  _ ask,” _ said Professor Potter. “You’re allowed to refuse if you’d prefer me approach this through official channels.”

Mostly, Scorpius just wanted to get out of the room without being expelled, so he withdrew his father’s wand. The feeling of the wand in his hand brought back some of the rage that had been tormenting him for the past five months, and his fear and insecurity was blessedly replaced with nothing but loathing for Professor Potter. He reached for the first vial, and it shattered in his tense grip. Scorpius yelped and retracted his bleeding hand, the pain jolting him back into his right mind, and Professor Potter gave him a suspicious look before grabbing his wrist and pulling it towards him sharply to heal the wound. 

He repaired the vial and handed it back to Scorpius. “Do you know the spell? It’s nonverbal and based more on intention than incantation.”

“I know what to do,” Scorpius said. He put his father’s wand to his temple and recalled the memory of his first encounter with Delphi, beginning with the moment that he and Albus dragged themselves out of the lake to the moment that Albus disarmed Cedric. He frowned at Professor Potter as he grabbed the first memory and pulled it away from Scorpius. Scorpius repeated the spell beginning the moment he shook Sirius to the image of Dobby bowing to him. That memory made him much more concerned than the first, as Professor Potter was going to see Scorpius’s whole relationship with Sirius and Scorpius’s strange interaction with the horcrux. He took the third vial to store the memory of he and Albus discussing which spell to use in the Owlery to Delphi grabbing him and Albus to bring them back in time. Finally, he withdrew the memory of Delphi forcing them down to the Quidditch pitch until Albus looped the chain of the Ministry time turner around his neck. That memory concerned him most of all, encompassing Scorpius admitting to Albus that he was losing time and, Scorpius recalled with a jolt, Albus gasping for shallow breaths and moaning softly as Scorpius sucked on his neck, Albus sliding his hand timidly but intentionally up his thigh before the Knight Bus lurched to a halt and interrupted them. Scorpius’s hands were shaking as he handed over the last vial, and Professor Potter examined it warily like he picked up on Scorpius’s hesitance.

“Do you swear that you have included the entirety of every memory I’ve asked for?”

Scorpius nodded quickly. “I swear.”

“I will not forgive any lies, including lies of omission, again. Do you think there are any other relevant memories that would interest me or help me in my investigation of Delphi?”

Scorpius shook his head. “No. I think that… if you want more information on Delphi, I think that Albus is the one who has been in contact with her, sir.”

“Albus has already spoken with me about his experiences with her. I trust his testimony and will be checking your memories against his description of events.”

Scorpius wished he was vindictive enough to tell him that, out of him and Albus, Scorpius was definitely the one more likely to provide an accurate testimony. Professor Potter wouldn’t believe him anyway. Scorpius exhaled slowly and scooted his chair backwards. “Am I dismissed, then?”

“You are. I’ll reach out if I find anything alarming in the memories.”

Scorpius stood halfway up then sat back down. Professor Potter was going to see most of it anyway, so Scorpius might as well prepare him. “You should know in advance that I am in love with your son.”

Professor Potter showed absolutely no visible reaction. “I am aware of that, yes.”

“Oh,” said Scorpius blankly. “Then… I’ll just go then.”

“That seems best,” Professor Potter said. 

Scorpius frowned at him and hurried out of the office, heart hammering and rage steadily building until he reached the Slytherin common room.

*

Scorpius estimated that, if Professor Potter only skipped his sleep in the alternate universe although he did desperately hope that he would skip more than just that, the memories would add up to about two and a half weeks. Because Professor Potter, however obsessive, did have other duties and did need to sleep, Scorpius expected him to be finished in about a month. During that time, he did not reach out once, which Scorpius thought was a good sign if he hadn’t yet found anything so alarming that he called Scorpius in for more questioning. He did shoot him the occasional suspicious glance in class and seemed to be gradually deteriorating in both health and focus but did not regard Scorpius in the way that one might expect someone to look at a criminal or potential dark wizard. There was a string of classes in which he wouldn’t meet his eyes, which Scorpius took as a sign that Professor Potter had reached his relationship with Sirius Potter.

Albus had the decency to avoid Scorpius entirely and look ashamed whenever his father fixed Scorpius with a wary, disapproving look. If he was aware that Professor Potter had demanded all of Scorpius’s memories, he did not let on. He must know that, at the very least, his dad had dove into the investigation of Delphi and Scorpius along with her.

Without Rose or Albus, Scorpius spent most of his time in his dad’s office, who verbally forgave him for his many mistakes over the past year but still looked at him sometimes as if he were wondering if he really knew Scorpius at all. He found himself very grateful for the Slytherins, who, when no one was around to observe them, were friendly and nonjudgmental. He didn’t blame them for avoiding him publicly. Scorpius thought the Voldemort’s son rumors were bad before and was completely unprepared to become  _ persona non grata _ in the entire Hogwarts community and beyond. For the first time, the Daily Prophet itself addressed the rumors. They did not deny them.

Over the few weeks after Professor Potter’s interrogation, Scorpius’s outbursts of rage and periods of lost time occurred very rarely. He was terrified that they would be discovered and taken as proof of his guilt but still awoke, on two separate occasions, with feelings of incredible elation. The second period of elation led to a rather incredible, if slightly fuzzy, period of days in which he was simply on fire. He very successfully cast every new spell on the first try. He had never experienced anything like it before and wasn’t even particularly perturbed when he heard students musing in the common room that several students, including two of the older members of the Slytherin Quidditch team, had missed an entire day of classes and had yet to be seen. 

It turned out quite nicely for Scorpius, who was approached by Ezra and Stuart the night before the Slytherin - Gryffindor game and essentially demanded to sub in as a chaser for Iwan Byrne.

Scorpius gave them a perplexed look. “The game is tomorrow. Why would you think I’m prepared to do that?”

“Look, we don’t have time to hold tryouts. The Gryffindors clearly tried to sabotage us. They shoved one of my dad’s teammates in a Vanishing Cabinet in the 90s, so I do not expect to see them again soon. You can be the keeper if you want, but Emmanuel asked for that specifically.”

“I am not good at Quidditch.”

“Surely your dad taught you about it. He wasn’t that great either, but he knew the rules of the game, which is more than I can say for Ezra.”

“We don’t expect to win,” said Ezra. “We’d just like to embarrass ourselves as little as possible. If you and Emmanuel sub in for Iwan and Craig, then we’ll have a full team at least.”

“Can’t you ask someone else? I’m a bit afraid of heights, if I’m being honest with myself.”

“We’re asking you,” said Ezra. “If you still want to say ‘no’, we won’t force you, but we will tell the whole school that you’ve been speaking Parseltongue in your sleep.”

Scorpius gasped. “Have I really?”

“Does it matter?” asked Ezra. “They’ll believe us.”

Scorpius sighed. “Well, I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

Stuart clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re doing us a big favor, mate.”

“I’m being blackmailed,” he snapped. 

“Doesn’t change the magnitude of the favor. I’ll track down a good broom for you.”

*

Scorpius felt good enough that he was willing to forgive his housemates for their blackmail. It would be fun! No one was expecting him to do well. He could just enjoy a pleasant game with his sometimes-friends. The Gryffindors, if they’d sabotage two members of the team, were clearly out for blood, but Scorpius was willing to look past that.

They got ready together in the changing room then gathered around for a pep talk from Stuart, the acting captain in Craig’s absence. At least, Scorpius expected a pep talk. What he really got was a small vial of an unidentifiable potion shoved into his hand by Adelaide. He held it at eye level and inspected it carefully - translucent green, low viscosity, no steam, no characteristic odor. Scorpius’s dad was the Potions Master, and Scorpius had spent a great deal of time hanging out in his lab and reading his books without seeing anything like this.

“What is this?” he asked, giving it another sniff.

“Chaser’s mix,” said Ezra, slinging back his own. “Of my own invention. Drink it.”

Stuart, the seeker, was handed a red potion that he drank without question. He shut his eyes for a few seconds after ingestion then opened them and focused his gaze on the floor, muttering, “I hate the locker room. Everyone has watches and jewelry off?” 

“What was that?”

“Niffler blood, mostly,” Stuart said like it wasn’t a big deal. “It renders you color blind other than shiny objects, helps you narrow in on the snitch.”

Scorpius gasped. “You’ve been cheating!”

“What?” Stuart asked loudly. “Slytherins? Cheat? Who?”

“Slytherins? Illegal drugs?” Adelaide added. “Surely not. Never in my life.”

“What,” Ezra began then dissolved into laughter at the joke he anticipated himself making. “W-What even is a Slytherin?”

There was a silence, then everyone who had drank their potions roared with laughter, mostly at his reaction to his own joke. Stuart slapped him on the back. “I love how much you loved that joke.”

“Do you guys do this every match?” Scorpius demanded.

“Cheating has been in the grand Slytherin tradition for centuries,” Adelaide informed him solemnly. “We just made it more fun. Drink your potion.”

“What is it?”

“Hey, Scorpius?” Stuart said.

Scorpius gave him a betrayed look. “Yes?”

“You know what else is in the grand Slytherin tradition?”

“Losing to Gryffindor?”

“No, peer pressure! Drink your potion!”

“Yeah, Scorpius,” Ezra added. “You’re a fine player, but you’re way too shy. We need you to tap into the beast inside for this.”

Adelaide pushed him in the chest and shouted, “DRINK IT!” right in his face.

Scorpius sighed deeply, shut his eyes, and drank the potion. Immediately, Adelaide slapped his face and shouted, “I WANT TO HEAR YOU SCREAM!”

Scorpius swatted her away. “Adelaide, stop it!”

“AHHH!” 

She kept hitting him, growing more aggressive as Scorpius attempted to squirm away from her. “I’m not going to do that!” 

“Punch him in the face, Adelaide!” Stuart called.

Adelaide geared up to punch him, and Scorpius shouted, “AHH! OKAY ARE YOU HAPPY?”

She punched him in the gut anyway, and he doubled over in agony. She elbowed him in between his shoulder blades. “I’M GONNA KILL YOU, YOU FUCKING MAGGOT.”

Before Adelaide’s next blow, Scorpius grabbed her and rolled her over his back so she landed on the floor. Adelaide screamed, “YES!” and Scorpius made a mental note that she appeared to be completely psychotic.

Scorpius scrambled away from her. “What was in that potion?”

Ezra and Stuart exchanged a grin, and Ezra said, “Coca extract mostly.”

“Coca as in - as in muggle cocaine?”

“Yeah, but magic, so it’s safe for our developing brains! Mixed with a little euphoria elixir and something to help remove inhibitions and anxiety, which is, full disclosure, just a crushed up bit of my mum’s Xanax.”

Scorpius stared at him in horror then rushed over to the trashcan and stuck two fingers down his throat. Ezra made a mockingly sympathetic noise as Scorpius failed to gag. “Yeah, the anti-anxiety’s a bit of a muscle relaxant, so you are not going to be able to do that.”

“I’m going to die, Ezra! I’ve never even drank alcohol before! Butterbeer makes me dizzy!”

“We took that into account when we mixed yours. It’s half water.” Ezra squatted down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Of all the times to lose your gag reflex, huh?”

Scorpius wanted to glare at him but found that hilariously entertaining. He started to laugh loudly, and Ezra flashed him a delighted smile before he started laughing too. Gasping for breath, Scorpius admitted, “I’ve sucked Sirius Potter’s dick.”

Ezra roared with laughter. “That’s not a real person, mate.” He stood up and extended a hand to help Scorpius to his feet. “You’ve got this, Scorpy. Just have fun out there.”

The rest of the psychotic, drugged-up Slytherin Quidditch team finished up their pre-game rituals, mostly getting in each other’s faces and screaming as Adelaide had done, while Scorpius observed them feeling completely removed from his body. He was beginning to find the whole thing hilarious and, other than being more alert in a detached way, couldn’t quite figure out how this was meant to help him in a Quidditch game. They entered the pitch all banging on their chests and doing some kind of intimidating vocalization that Ezra and Adelaide claimed was from a very popular Muggle movie. 

The Gryffindor team was staring them down viciously, but Scorpius was unmoved by the intimidation attempts. Rose seemed shocked to find Scorpius on the pitch, and Scorpius beamed back at her. Stuart shook Dominique Weasley’s hand vigorously, then the teams kicked off, and Scorpius abruptly forgot what he was doing as the wind hit his face.

Scorpius hovered above the goalposts, unaware of most of what was happening around him other than through Lucy Weasley’s distorted commentary:  _ “Rose Granger-Weasley scores another goal only minutes in. She’s certainly bringing her a-game today as her rivalry with Slytherin beaters, Alwin and Matilda Flint, continues. This feud between the Gryffindors and the Flint twins has always been personal as Lily’s father famously once shoved his wand up one of their relative’s nose before Rose’s father hit them on the head with a club. Oh, and she was recently dumped as Scorpius Malfoy’s beard. We are all surprised to see Scorpius on the field today because he does not appear to know how to play the game. Oh, and two goals were scored as I set the scene for this game. The Quaffle is thrown towards Scorpius, and he bats it away as if he’s afraid it’s going to hurt him. Both he and Emmanuel Burke are subbing in for the more experienced members of the team, and it shows. Ezra Tobbins has never had a solid grasp of the rules of the game, leaving Adelaide Moore as the only competent chaser, and she is out for blood! She is cornered by Art Jordan and Rose Granger-Weasley and, in a bind, is forced to throw the Quaffle to Scorpius, who once again swats it away from himself. Maybe he’d make an adequate beater, but chaser is not for him. Slytherin has always been known for strong beaters as they are a house of vicious, ruthless brutes, but Alwin and Matilda truly rule the game. As they are both technically human, we are not allowed to point out how unfair it is that they are literal monsters - and Alwin aims a bludger at me. I barely escape with my life! Going to take more than that to kill me, Flint! And, once again, Gryffindor has scored three goals in the time that I was describing the match. Emmanuel Burke is about as useful as a scarecrow but has nothing on Scorpius Malfoy, who does not seem to recognize his teammates and just caught the Quaffle and threw it to Fred Weasley. Absolutely awful, and I hope we see much more of him in the future.” _

“Scorpius, what the hell is going on?” Ezra shouted. “Catch the Quaffle, and throw it to — oh, holy fucking shit. Potter, think fast!”

Dominique looked around at the warning and shouted, “Lily, move!”

Alwin had aimed an absolutely devastating bludger at Lily Potter, who was scanning for the snitch somewhere between Scorpius and the Gryffindor goalpost. Scorpius had little depth perception and intense tunnel vision and could not estimate distance very well but sped off in her direction in time to grab the tail of her broom and yank it to the side. The bludger missed her but hit the front of her broom, snapping it off and proceeding on with such force that it collided with the left Gryffindor goalpost and created such a deep dent that the post began to bend forward. 

Lily’s broom lost all ability to balance her weight and barely remained airborne before Scorpius slung an arm around her waist. He too started to tumble forward before Lily grabbed the front of the broom and yanked firmly upwards to counter the added weight. Art cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “TIMBER!” before the goal post groaned and came crashing down. 

Fitz sped away from the goal to hover below Scorpius. He clapped his hands and shouted, “Throw her to me!”

Scorpius, unsure of what to do, gave her a helpful shove, and Fitz caught her more carefully than he had and seamlessly slid back to accomodate a second passenger before hovering down to the ground. The crowd was going wild, raging against Alwin as the Slytherins cheered him on, and Lucy was screaming about troll blood as Lily was lowered to the ground. 

“What the fuck, Malfoy?” Alwin shouted. “She’s not on our team!”

“She’s off the field anyway! Did you want to kill her?”

“Where are Iwan and Craig, Scorpius?” Matilda added. “Justice for Slytherin!”

“Okay, no, you know what?” Scorpius shouted. “I’m beater now! You’re chaser, Alwin!”

“You’re fucking awful at this game!”

“Give me the bat! I’m beater now!”

Alwin scowled at him and threw the bat at full force into Scorpius’s chest, sending him rolling back. Ezra hollered, “WHAT THE FUCK IS SCORPIUS DOING WITH THE BEATER’S BAT?”

“HE TOOK MY POSITION!” Alwin shouted.

“SCORPIUS, JUST STAY OUT OF THE WAY!”

Scorpius collected himself and shouted, “NO, I’M BEATER. I’LL DEAL WITH THE BLUDGERS. ALWIN IS CHASER NOW.”

“YOU KNOW WHAT?” Ezra shouted. “FUCK IT! EVERYONE CHANGE POSITIONS! I WANT TO BE SEEKER.”

“I’LL BE KEEPER!” Adelaide added, zooming towards Emmanuel.

“GIVE ME THE BAT,” Stuart shouted. “I’M BEATER NOW. EMMANUEL, MATILDA, YOU GUYS ARE CHASERS.”

“WHAT IS HAPPENING?” Alwin bellowed. Scorpius, Stuart, Ezra, and Adelaide could barely contain their laughter as every member of the Slytherin team changed positions.

“FAN OUT. WE’RE ALL ON SNITCH DUTY!” Stuart added. It was difficul to hear anything over the sound of the crowd, but he looked down at the ref and nodded. “PLAY ON.”

Scorpius hit a bludger away from Fitz and shouted, “I’M GOING TO PROTECT THE PITCH, OKAY, GUYS?”

Ezra laughed so hard that his hand slipped, and he cartwheeled forward. “SCORPIUS IS NO LONGER PLAYING FOR SLYTHERIN AND WILL INSTEAD WAGE PRIVATE WAR ON THE BLUDGERS.”

“THIS GAME IS TOO VIOLENT!” Scorpius shouted as the bludger came back at him. 

_ “I really do not know what to say. Lily Potter is out of the game, and Fitz Wood seems to be taking over as seeker. Slytherin has switched all positions and has apparently decided to put everyone on the hunt for the snitch at the same time. I have never seen anything like it in my life and am not sure that it’s allowed. The Gryffindor team seems too confused to proceed to the best of their abilities. Matilda Flint scores a goal, so I assume that she is a chaser, and Scorpius Malfoy is indiscriminately hitting bludgers away from the pitch. He never should have been allowed to be a part of this team, and I hope for all our sakes that Slytherin doesn’t cut him. And that is — the snitch is hovering within arm’s reach, and Scorpius is calling everyone’s attention to the snitch without making any effort to grab it. This is — this is really something, and I feel so privileged to be able to watch this. Fitz Wood, Stuart Bletchley, and Ezra Tobbins all speed towards the snitch. Scorpius apparently comes to his senses and grabs at it because it has been a foot away from him for almost a minute, and that is — bloody hell, the worst Quidditch player in the history of the game has caught the snitch, and Slytherin wins! Gryffindor players exchange looks of shock and confusion as they slowly return to the ground.” _

Scorpius looked at the beater’s bat and snitch in either hand and shouted, “WHAT POSITION WAS I SUPPOSED TO BE AGAIN?”

They returned to the ground. Stuart was laughing so hard that he fell the last few feet and landed on his side on the grass. Adelaide practically stampeded at Scorpius, who was not entirely sure what was going on other than the fact that his team seemed delighted, and grabbed and kissed him on the lips. Scorpius immediately held his arms out wide to avoid touching her, and she pulled back to slap him in the face. Ezra pushed her aside, still giggling uncontrollably, and pulled him in for an aggressive kiss that Scorpius responded to without thinking, wrapping both his arms around his neck and essentially shoving his tongue into his mouth.

The Slytherins were all enjoying the victory tremendously, although Stuart was held back before entering the changing room and ran in to report that Professor Malfoy was forcing them to forfeit because they had too obviously been on drugs and also that Scorpius was in a lot of trouble with his dad. As no other professors had put together their odd behavior and the Slytherin legacy of juicing for Quidditch games, he was allowing them to say that they would forfeit due to Alwin’s aggressive attack on Lily Potter. It did little to dampen their spirits, and a few Gryffindors even came up to shake Scorpius’s hand and congratulate him on what they were assuming was a massive troll of Quidditch as a sport (and not the type of troll that the Flints were).

The day only got better when Scorpius returned to the common room to find Albus sitting uncomfortably on a couch in the half-full room. Albus looked up and frowned at Scorpius and Ezra, who had his arm wrapped around Scorpius’s shoulders and had snogged him for about a minute straight in the changing room. Scorpius elbowed Ezra away and sprinted towards Albus, who looked very reassured when Scorpius pulled him up by his wrist and wrapped him in a tight hug.

“Okay, fuck you too,” said Ezra, shruggging it off and joining Stuart and Emmanuel on the opposite couch.

Scorpius squeezed the breath out of Albus and said, “You’re a terrible friend. I missed you so much! Why are you here?”

“Er - is he alright?” Albus asked as Scorpius started to nuzzle his face.

“He’s off his face right now,” said Ezra.

“Very high,” Stuart translated.

Albus pulled back to frown at him. “Why are you high? Are you okay?”

“It’s the Slytherin Quidditch cheating peer pressure legacy,” Scorpius explained quickly. “Are you allowed to be here? I will be so, so upset if you’re talking to me behind your dad’s back, okay, Albus? Don’t let me down again, or I will put serious consideration into trying to get over you.”

Albus gaped at him. “You don’t handle drugs well, do you? That match was - thank you for what you did for Lily, first, by the way. I think it - my dad told me that I could start talking to you again. He’s going to find you himself to talk about it, but I think he’s with your dad right now? Something convinced him. I think maybe he doesn’t think an evil person would spend an entire Quidditch game trying to keep all the bludgers away from the pitch.”

“He must be done watching my memories,” blurted out Scorpius, who had not intended to tell Albus about that. “He made me give him all of them associated with Delphi or the time turners.”

“Wait, he made you give him your memories?” Rhiannon asked. “Scorpius. Woah.”

Scorpius looked around and whispered, “Did you know there were other people here, Albus?”

Albus smiled hesitantly. “I did. I actually - aren’t those the students who were missing from the game in the corner? Why didn’t they play?”

Scorpius looked to the corner in surprise. Iwan was speaking with Craig, the second year Slytherin muggle-born, and a few other students, some of whom he was not entirely sure were members of this house. An odd memory flashed in his mind, of him staggering through the Forbidden Forest and coming across Iwan Byrne, who had followed him from the Slytherin common room. He remembered a flash of green light. Iwan looked over at him and smiled. Without thinking, Scorpius’s hand came up to rub his chest where he always imagined the locket sitting.

“Albus, I think you should go,” Scorpius whispered, feeling dizzy in a way that didn’t feel like a side effect of the drugs. He was struck by a splitting headache and clawed at his chest to find the source of the burning sensation. Albus was looking at him in concern, and Scorpius shouted, disturbing everyone in the room, “ALBUS, GO, AND FIND YOUR DAD.”

Iwan stepped forward at the words, and Scorpius blacked out momentarily. When he opened his eyes, Albus Severus Potter was standing up and moving towards the door, still focused on him with an alarmed expression. He reached out to grab his arm and pull him back towards him, and Albus Severus whispered, “Scorpius, you told me to go.”

He shot a spell at the door, and the perimeter glowed like the embers of a fire before sealing everyone into the common room. Albus Severus kept saying Scorpius Malfoy’s name, and he groaned, “I think the child is high. Delphini?”

“Delphi?” Albus Severus demanded, trying once again to shake his grip as Delphini walked over to them, slowly losing the form of the Slytherin Mudblood that had come across him in the forest. She pointed her wand at him and sliced the air, removing whatever potion Scorpius had ingested from his body.

He stood up and told her, “Keep your wand on him. Do not kill him. He’s the only one who matters.”

Delphini bowed her head and said, “Yes, my Lord,” before directing her wand to Albus Severus so that Lord Voldemort could stand up to observe the pathetic state of the new generation of Slytherins. Letting in Mudbloods was an egregious betrayal of his ancestor, Salazar Slytherin. They had already taken care of two of them, but the third remained to be eliminated.

The form of the second Mudblood came to stand by his side, already transforming back into his original form. Albus Severus was glaring up at Delphini, but several of the other students flinched as he changed back, and a boy whispered, “Isn’t that Professor Malfoy’s boggart?”

Fenrir Greyback smiled at him toothily. “Am I little Draco’s boggart?”

“You should be truly flattered,” said Voldemort. He focused his wand on the boy and said, “Identify yourself.”

“Stuart Bletchley,” he said weakly. “I’m a pure-blood. Son of Miles Bletchley and Gemma Farley.”

“And how would you like to be the first new disciple of Lord Voldemort, Stuart Bletchley?”

Stuart Bletchley inexplicably glanced at Albus Severus Potter, who nodded in what he clearly hoped was a subtle way. Stuart Bletchley swallowed and slid off the couch to get on his knees. Voldemort laughed, a sound that came across as oddly genuine in Scorpius Malfoy’s voice, and called, “Slytherin house has provided some of my greatest and most loyal supporters in the past. Declare yourself and promise to serve me. Your lives right now are expendable, but together, we can make them great. All with magical blood are welcome.”

There was a very long silence, enough time for all of Greyback’s werewolves to transform back into their original forms. Students were looking at one another, catching each other’s eyes, and looking away in shame. No one spoke up, then a boy with dark hair and olive skin joined Stuart Bletchley on the ground. “Emmanuel Burke. Pure-blood. Great-grandson of Caractacus Burke.”

“I am acquainted,” Voldemort said softly. “Give me your wand and stand by my side.”

Emmanuel Burke cast a quick look at Stuart Bletchley, who kept his face down and eyes closed, then turned over his wand and stood up in a spot as far from Greyback as possible. One by one, the Slytherins declared themselves and turned over their wands. 

“Greyback, I believe you are scaring the children,” said Voldemort. “I do not intend to frighten them. Take the werewolves and bring me Harry Potter, dead or alive. Dead would be preferable.”

“No!” Albus Severus shouted, attempting to stand up then being forced down again by Delphini.

Voldemort motioned for her to remove her wand. He smiled down at Harry Potter’s son, who glared back at him resolutely. He looked so much like him yet rumor and Delphini’s reports did not flatter him. He was quite interested in exactly how pathetic Potter’s progeny really was. “Would you like to stop me, Albus Severus?”

Albus Severus, who had turned over his wand at the beginning, breathed out slowly. Voldemort tucked the Elder Wand in his sleeve. He held his arms out to illustrate his defenselessness. “Your brat of a father did it twice, Albus Severus. Your namesake - he fought very admirably. A truly great wizard. Even Severus, who died by my hand, showed tremendous power. What can you do?” 

Albus Severus stared up at him, and Voldemort retrieved his wand. “I didn’t think so. Greyback, bring me Potter’s body.”

“You’re afraid to try to kill him yourself,” observed Albus Severus. Voldemort flicked his wand so that Greyback and the three other werewolves could exit the common room then sealed it again. “You don’t think you can do it.”

Voldemort regarded him coldly, and Albus Severus looked down. “I will give you the opportunity to declare yourself, useless though you may be, I would find it greatly amusing to have a Potter in my midst.”

“Would you be able to bring Scorpius back?” Albus Severus asked. “Could you get your own body?”

Voldemort was taken aback. He had truly not expected a Potter child to consider his offer. A smile spread across his face slowly. He really didn’t have any plans of giving up Scorpius Malfoy’s body. He was a perfect conduit for his return, able to balance remarkable magical ability with an emotional weakness that allowed him to succumb to possession in a matter of months. He had no love for Harry Potter to encourage any remaining parts of him to fight. Voldemort would have to be a fool to surrender this vessel. 

Still, he smiled at Albus Severus. “If that is what you require, I will return Scorpius Malfoy.”

Albus Severus hesitated. “You’re lying.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you. There are other worthy vessels. Ginny Weasley particularly comes to mind. Would you prefer that?”

Albus Severus swallowed and lowered his head.

“Good, then I will continue with the original plan of killing her. Alternatively, you could join me, and I can protect them all. Besides your father, of course.” He did not look up at him, but Voldemort could see his resolve weakening. “Join me. Extend your left arm, and we can change the world together.”

“No!” he shouted.

“It is very dangerous to refuse me.”

“You said that I was the only person here you couldn’t kill,” Albus Severus spat. “I don’t think you’ll do anything to me.”

_ “Crucio,”  _ Voldemort shouted. 

Albus Severus flinched then appeared to be confused. Voldemort faltered. The spell hadn’t worked. He didn’t want to try again and risk drawing attention to the failure in case Harry Potter had done something to protect his child. He looked around, and the girl who had identified herself as Adelaide Moore said, “Magic bounces off him sometimes. It’s the only thing he’s good at.”

“Ah,” said Voldemort, who suspected that was not the reason for this failure. He felt rather sick and rubbed his chest without thinking much about it. 

“We call him the Slytherin Squib,” explained Rhiannon Moore. “He’s so disinclined to magic that even other people’s spells can’t stick to him.”

Albus Severus was giving him a curious look, and Voldemort, slightly perturbed by this development, found it best to move along before people started getting any ideas about his failure. He had the Elder Wand, and it answered to Scorpius Malfoy, who was being controlled by Voldemort. There was no way his Cruciatus should fail.

“There is one item of concern,” declared Voldemort. “It appears that Slytherin has begun to admit muggle-born students. Two of them have already been disposed of. Whoever identifies and offers to kill the third shall have their wand returned to them.”

Emmanuel Burke inhaled sharply, and Adelaide Moore made a choked noise. Voldemort focused on the girl. “Your mother was pragmatic, Ms. Moore. She knew when it was time to follow me. Identify Ezra Tobbins for me.”

There was a long pause, then Emmanuel Burke burst out, “You know who he is! Don’t force Adelaide to be complicit!”

“Complicit in the death of a Mudblood?” Voldemort asked icily. “She should be honored.  _ Accio Emmanuel Burke’s wand.” _ He held out the wand to Emmanuel Burke and nodded in the direction of the Slytherin Mudblood. “Go ahead.”

Emmanuel Burke accepted it slowly and looked at the Mudblood, who looked terrified to the point of hyperventilation. He didn’t say anything to plead for his life, and Emmanuel Burke looked down at his own wand in horror. He raised it looking as terrified as the Mudblood did, and then Delphini yelled angrily as Albus Severus kicked her away and ran in front of the boy. 

“Albus, I am so sorry for all the things I’ve said about you,” the Mudblood whispered, and Albus Severus made a disgruntled noise but spread his arms out. Still on his knees, Stuart Bletchley let out a shaky gasp of relief, and Emmanuel Burke, looking like he was about to faint, lowered his wand. This new generation really was pathetic.

“Do you really think you can protect him? I could have you out of the way in a second.”

“How? Are you going to  _ crucio _ me again?”

“Perhaps a deal can be arranged. I confess that I have met Mudbloods of surprising power before. I do not wish to damage our community more than must be done.” 

“What deal would you suggest?”

“I’m down to join the cause,” said the Mudblood from behind Albus Severus. “My Lord.”

“You would not be given the option not to. I want your brother’s cloak, Albus Severus. It is the last thing that I need.”

“Are you sure? Scorpius looks really bad in Hufflepuff colors.”

“Hm. You know which cloak I want.”

“Okay, sure, I can do that, but you can’t hurt anyone in this room.”

“I never had any intention of hurting anyone from Slytherin house. You will be my new army. Once we kill Harry Potter and the Mudblood Minister of Magic, a new world can begin. No other blood need be shed as long as loyalty is promised.”

“Yeah, you’re going to have to kill a lot of people,” said Albus Severus flippantly. “Me included.”

“Who led you to be so confident that I am not willing to kill you, Albus Severus? Someone has given you faulty information. You are and have always been a spare.”

Albus Severus looked troubled. “Delphini said the prophecy—“

Delphini smiled at him. “I thought it was best if Scorpius thought he was irrelevant, so he wouldn’t question his possession too thoroughly. It is truly astonishing the lengths that he went to to keep anyone from finding out about what was happening to him.” She looked around the room. “He found himself in the Forbidden Forest at least a dozen times and kept it to himself. He found himself in front of Albus Dumbledore’s tomb and kept it to himself, because he had been so thoroughly broken down by the ostracization and paranoia of being labelled Voldemort’s son. Really, we owe you all a huge debt, but none moreso than Harry Potter. His possession was quick, easy, and permanent.”

There was a horrible silence as this sank in, then the muggle-born said, “Oof,” under his breath, and Albus Severus scowled at Voldemort, who frowned back at him and rubbed his chest. Albus Severus’s eyes flicked down to the action, and Voldemort realized what he was doing. 

In another attempt to redirect attention from any odd ticks or power failures that might occur until he and Delphini could finish their job in the castle and figure out a way to make sure that the soul of Scorpius Malfoy was not also in the body anymore, he asked, “Would you like to hear the real prophecy, Albus Severus?”

Albus Severus glared back at him. “You seem like you want to share, so sure, go ahead.”

_ “When time has been turned,” _ began Delphini in his place.  _ “When the unseen son disarms the spare and destroys the father, when the false son is left alone, then the part shall be destroyed for the whole to return. Father and daughter shall be united at least, and the Dark Lord will rule once more.” _


	17. This, Too, Is Love (January 2017)

Draco, other than his intense parental disapproval of how clearly high his son was, quite enjoyed watching the Quidditch game. He had played Quidditch with the Slytherins too and, although he personally had always been too wary of his father’s attention to try any of the performance-enhancing supplements, had watched his teammates do so many times. In his days, the performance-enhancing supplements actually enhanced performance rather than being apparently just for fun and possibly even a negative for performance. He was at least relieved that, given the fact that Scorpius had no idea what was going on, he could rest assured that his son had not tried anything similar before. He had enough to worry about with, for lack of a better word, Scorpius’s interpersonal relationships.

Scorpius disappeared into the changing room with Ezra Tobbins before Draco could catch him, but Stuart Bletchley did respond when Draco shouted for him to stop. Draco glared down at him, and Stuart had the decency to look ashamed. “You gave Scorpius drugs?”

“We also cheated, if you’d like to point that out,” Stuart said, sounding mildly amused.

“Usually cheating is intended to improve performance,” Draco said witheringly.

“We did win though.”

“Because the snitch flew within arm’s reach of Scorpius and stayed there for over a minute!”

“Still counts, doesn’t it? We beat Gryffindor! Be happy for us.”

Draco sneered at him. “You obviously have to forfeit the win, Mr. Bletchley. As no one has brought up your obvious drug abuse to me, I will allow you to claim forfeiture due to Mr. Flint’s attack on Ms. Potter.”

“Okay, if anything, that hurt us because then we had to play with only two Gryffindor hoops.”

“And Lily Potter could have died. You can forfeit due to use of illegal supplements if you’d prefer?”

“No, we’ll… we’ll blame it on Alwin. Thank you.”

“And tell Scorpius he is in a tremendous amount of trouble. As are all of you, once I figure out a proper punishment.”

“I will pass along the message, Professor Malfoy! And may I commend you on your ability to compartmentalize being a father and being his head of house?”

“Get out of here, Mr. Bletchley.”

Stuart saluted and ran off in the direction of the changing room shouting, “GUYS, WE ACTUALLY LOST.”

Draco sighed and started down to his office to gather something that would sober his students up while hopefully leaving them with horrible hangovers to discourage any further recreational drug abuse. He was interrupted on his way to the office by a rather contrite looking Harry Potter. After months of suspicion and judgment, it was a welcome change, and Draco smiled at him smugly before he’d even said anything.

“So,” said Harry slowly. “It appears that I have made a big mistake.”

“Oh?”

“And most evidence is pointing to Scorpius being a pretty wonderful kid, other than being… is it too early to call him a budding sex and love addict? Because there is a lot to unpack there that you might want to talk to him about.”

“He’s a fifteen-year-old,” said Draco. “I mean, I wasn’t like that at age fifteen.”

“No, nor was I.”

“But I like to believe that it’s perfectly normal,” Draco said optimistically. “What evidence are you referring to?”

“Well, I went through his and Albus’s accounts of the events, and it seemed that, at every point, Scorpius was the person trying to talk Albus out of stupid decisions or providing the voice of reason or working to fix the damage that Albus had done,” Harry admitted reluctantly.

“I told you - what did I tell you? So? I told you so.”

“And I caught enough of that match to know that, in addition to saving my daughter from a nasty bludger, he spent almost the entire game just trying to keep the bludgers away from all the players regardless of team. And I… don’t think Voldemort would have done that.”

“I would be surprised,” said Draco.

“I’ve already sent Albus back to the Slytherin dorms, and I’ll apologize to Scorpius myself later this evening, but there was one matter that gave me pause. He told Albus that he’d been losing time ever since destroying the locket in the alternate universe? I talked to Ron, and he said that nothing like that ever happened to him. Scorpius said he’s been waking up in weird places since he got back from the dark timeline. Ginny had experience with losing time in her first year, but her actions were all easily tracked. Scorpius hasn’t appeared to actually  _ do _ anything. Has he talked to you about this?”

Draco frowned then, deciding that Harry Potter did not seem like he was blaming Scorpius for his lost time, said, “Yes, he said he’s been waking up in the Forbidden Forest a few times with scratches on his palms and knees.”

“Forbidden Forest,” Harry repeated.

“And Hufflepuff basement.”

Harry froze. “And… were there any more locations?”

“On the outskirts of the Great Lake. Forbidden Forest, Hufflepuff basement, and Great Lake. I couldn’t figure out what the connection could be. Obviously there are a great many powerful things in the Forbidden Forest. I was doing some research into potions he might be making, but it’s been very inconclusive.”

Harry put a hand to his mouth, eyes flicking from side-to-side erratically, then pulled it away and asked, “Did you ask him if the place in the Great Lake was anywhere near Dumbledore’s tomb?”

It took Draco only a second to figure out what Harry had already pieced together. “No, I did not think to ask him th — did you have the resurrection stone on you when you went into the forest?”

Harry nodded.

“And James has the cloak.”

“He does,” Harry affirmed.

“So he’s going after the hallows,” Draco surmised.

Harry’s eyes widened. “He disarmed me! The moment he got back from the alternate universe — do you remember?”

“Surely someone has disarmed you before.”

“Yes, during Auror training, when I was allowing it to happen! Not without my implicit permission!”

“Astonishing,” said Draco. “You truly are master of the  _ expelliarmus.” _

“Malfoy, cut the shit! He’s actually master of the Elder Wand, and it sounds like he has it! He might have all three.”

“What would Scorpius want with the hallows though? You just forgave him!”

Harry shut his eyes for a second then gritted out, “Stay with me here, Malfoy. I don’t think it’s Scorpius making these decisions.”

Draco considered this for a second then paled. “The horcruxes are gone! Is he bloody Dracula? How does he come back so bloody frequently?”

“The horcruxes weren’t all gone in the world Scorpius was in. Okay, we need to move. If Scorpius is still in control, then we can get him away from the other kids until we can figure out how to — to exorcize him, I guess? Move!”

Harry shoved him ahead, and they ran together in the direction of the Slytherin common room. They had just reached the dungeons and were only a few turns from the entrance when a raspy, horribly familiar voice asked from the shadows, “Word in the dungeons is that I’m your boggart, little Malfoy.”

Draco froze, as petrified and helpless as he’d been in the Defense classroom, but Harry’s training kicked in, and he started firing stunning spells at the four figures approaching them. Two of Greyback’s compatriots were thrown back, but the third disarmed Draco easily, and Fenrir launched himself at Harry, forgoing a wand in favor of physically pinning him to the ground and holding his wand hand down. 

The feral-looking man who had disarmed Draco snapped his wand without a second thought and stomped on Harry’s hand to snap both his wand and some bones. Draco couldn’t believe how useless he still was after all this time. If Fenrir Greyback killed Harry Potter, he couldn’t see any hope for getting Voldemort away from Scorpius. Harry Potter beat Voldemort. It was what he did. That was likely why Greyback had been sent in his place. The Death Eaters had lost many opportunities to kill Harry because Voldemort wanted to do it himself, and that plan quite literally backfired. 

Draco used to be useful or, at least, powerful. He remembered destroying his room while his wand had been confiscated. He had levitated! Now he just felt a sort of extreme hopelessness as if surrounded by dementors that prevented him from taking any action as Fenrir Greyback tightened his grip on Harry’s windpipe, and Harry’s movements switched from intentional pushes to convulsions. 

Draco thought of his shattered mirror in his bedroom at Malfoy Manor and croaked, as if he was the one being strangled,  _ “Stupefy.”  _ He thought of the intense emotional outbursts over the fall of his family and the fate of his father and tried again,  _ “STUPEFY.” _

“What’s he trying to do?” the other werewolf asked, pointing his wand to Draco.

“Leave him alive,” Fenrir growled, out of breath from the struggle and unwilling to risk looking away from Harry. “He’s useless other than his arm.”

Draco flexed his left arm, imagining the mark turning from black to red. He remembered his mother holding him and willing him to stop sobbing the night after he’d received it, mostly just surprised and scared by how much it had hurt. The werewolf gave him a wary look and kept his wand trained on Draco as Harry’s movements became sluggish and weak. Harry was going to die, and Draco was going to watch the Dark Lord return and take over his son’s body. The man who had led his father astray and destroyed the Malfoy name had come for the final member. Harry was going to die in front of him, then Albus, then Draco was going to return to the Dark Lord like his father had. Harry was going to die pinned down by Fenrir Greyback, not even killed with magic. Harry Potter had been, for so long, the only person who had really mattered to him. Then Draco had built a life. Now everyone was about to be taken away, and Draco had almost died like Harry would, lying in a puddle of his own ever-spreading blood. 

Draco was shaky, sickened, hopeless, furious, bereft, and wanted nothing more than for everything to stop. He wanted Fenrir to stop. He wanted Harry Potter to still be moving. He wanted Scorpius to be himself when he found him. Draco pointed a hand out and shouted,  _ “SECTUMSEMPRA!” _

He could feel it work, all the energy and power draining from his body and leaving him as nothing more than a shaky mess of nerves and repressed sobs. Greyback growled and faltered, his grip loosening on Harry’s neck as the first gash spread across his chest. Blood spilled from him onto Harry and started creeping across the floor. The werewolf looked down in horror as Fenrir collapsed on top of Harry and shouted, “What did you do?”

Draco could barely catch his breath and could certainly not answer him. The man looked from his two stunned partners to the bloody mess of Fenrir’s body to the limp body of Harry Potter and, even though he could have killed Draco in a second, overestimated his opponent and took off at a run towards the exit. 

Draco dropped to his knees and pushed Fenrir off Harry Potter. He was soaked in Greyback’s blood and had the dark red imprints of hands around his neck. Draco dropped his head to his chest then tested his pulse, choking back a sob when he felt nothing. He fell back on his knees and looked around for anything that could resuscitate him. 

He climbed unsteadily to his feet, almost falling over and accidentally pulling a sconce off the wall as he grabbed it for balance, before tottering over to the stunned werewolves to find a wand. 

Two sets of footsteps were pounding down the hall, and Draco bowed his head as he waited for more Death Eaters to come put him out of his misery. 

James Potter shouted, “DAD?” and Teddy Lupin followed it with, “HARRY? DRACO?” 

Draco doubled over, almost unwilling to believe that help had arrived as they sprinted around the corner. James knelt down in front of Harry to check his pulse, and Teddy Lupin accidentally dropped the Marauder’s Map in a pool of Fenrir’s blood as they shook Draco and demanded, “WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM?”

“Fenrir,” Draco gasped.

“Fenrir Greyback?” Teddy asked, stunned. “What did he—?”

“Teddy, he isn’t breathing!” James gasped. He was trying very valiantly not to cry. “Do you — do you think  _ rennervate _ would help?”

Teddy pulled him back and took James’s spot in front of Harry. They looked at their hands in terror, looked down at Harry, then put one hand over the other and interlaced their fingers before starting to compress Harry’s chest while counting quietly under their breath. James reached out to his father, and Draco lunged forward to pull him away as Teddy leaned back to tap his chest and throat a few times while murmuring incantations before they resumed compressing his chest.

James curled against Draco and whispered, “Teddy is — Teddy is training to be an Auror, so I think that they probably know what to do, and it’s — my dad’s going to be okay. Because Teddy will fix it. They probably see things like this all the time.”

“He’s going to be fine,” Draco reaffirmed, not at all believing what he was saying as Teddy pulled back to repeat the wand motions. “He’s Harry Potter.”

“He’s my dad,” James corrected him.

Teddy made an angry noise then shot a burst of red light into Harry’s chest. His chest jerked upwards as if pulled by a string, and when he dropped back to the ground, he gasped for breath. James started sobbing in relief, and Teddy looked up at the ceiling and murmured what looked to be prayers and profuse gratitude. 

Harry groaned and shifted around slightly as if testing the state of his body then hissed as he moved his broken hand. Teddy said, “Oh!” and fixed that easily. 

Harry blinked his eyes open and whispered hoarsely, “Teddy?”

“Yes, it’s me, yes,” Teddy repeated.

James pulled away from Draco and scrambled to his other side. “Dad, there are Death Eaters in the castle, and Albus is in the Slytherin common room with Delphini Riddle, and Scorpius’s dot — it’s flickering. With Tom Riddle.”

“James, he needs to go to St. Mungo’s,” Teddy whispered. “It’s — Harry, leave this one to us, okay? You and Draco both look like you need real medical attention.”

“Hit me with a  _ rennervate,”  _ Harry croaked. “It’ll be fine.”

“There will be permanent damage to your vocal cords if you don’t get attention now.”

“Fuck my fucking vocal cords,” he rasped.

James bit his lip anxiously then pointed his wand at his father and said,  _ “Rennervate.” _

Harry pushed himself up and whispered, “Thank you, James.”

“Dad, we’ve got to get Albus,” James said. 

James helped him to his feet, and Draco pushed himself upwards to join them with great effort. Harry swayed then grabbed James’s shoulder, looking down at Fenrir’s body with an expression of great confusion. “What happened to him?”

“I killed him,” Draco reported. “The other one ran off. Those two stunned ones — someone with a wand should bind them.”

Teddy nodded and bound the other two werewolves before searching all the bodies for wands. The search proved fruitless, and Teddy stood up looking very confused. James nudged them and pointed at the other two werewolves, “Look how they’re dressed. I think they’re muggles.”

“That's sick,” muttered Teddy.

“And Fenrir did not consider his wand to be his biggest asset,” said Draco. 

“James,” said Harry softly as Teddy stared down into the slashed face of Fenrir Greyback with an oddly blank expression given what had just happened. “You need to go get help, okay? Find Neville — he’ll have his galleon on him, and if he doesn’t, use the Floo, get Ron, Hermione, your mother, and anyone else they can reach. Find McGonagall and make sure all the students are confined to their common room. Don’t send anyone else into the Slytherin common room. If he has Albus and the Elder Wand, it’s not a numbers game. Just tell them to make sure that the school is protected.”

“But I — I want to help Al,” said James. “Dad, you just — I want to be with you.”

“Please, James, find your mother for me, okay?”

“Draco can’t even fight,” James protested. “He has no wand and looks like he’s about to keel over!”

“If Voldemort is fighting for control over Scorpius’s body, then Draco needs to be there. And you can run faster than he can right now. So please?”

James looked at Teddy helplessly, who squared their shoulders resolutely. “Everything will be fine. Go get more help.”

“Teddy, you should also—“

“Sorry, Harry, can’t hear you over the sound of me having saved your life. Come on. We need to get to Albus. James, we’ll see you soon.”

James frowned miserably then took off at a sprint in the direction of Neville’s office. Teddy looped an arm around Draco to help him walk, and Draco waved them off in irritation. He rolled his shoulders back and attempted to project the air of not being about to pass out as they all hurried to the Slytherin common room. 

The door was blocked. Draco tried the password several times and even made some vague hissing noises at it before Teddy said, “I’ve got it,” and rummaged around in their pocket before emerging with a small pocket knife.

Harry stared at it. “How did you get one of those?”

“Did you think Sirius Black was the only one to own one of these?”

“So you and James are just sneaking around the castle constantly?” Harry asked.

Teddy shrugged then took a deep breath. “Give me one second.”

Draco fought the urge to lean against the wall then jumped in attention when Harry hissed, “No, absolutely not.”

Draco looked around in alarm then gasped and flattened against the wall at the sight of Albus Dumbledore whispering incantations as he transfigured Teddy’s Auror trainee robes into something resembling the flowing, colorful robes that Dumbledore had favored. “Teddy,” Harry whispered. “He will  _ kill _ you.”

“I did it for Quidditch games all the time,” Teddy responded calmly. “It’s important to psych out your opponent.”

“This is not you dressing up as Viktor Krum to scare some Ravenclaws! This is waltzing into Voldemort’s trap in the form of the only man he’s ever feared!”

“It’s a good idea,” Draco said softly. Harry glared at him as if this was his greatest betrayal to date. “There are two souls fighting for control inside Scorpius right now. If we don’t want to kill Scorpius’s body — which we do not, then we need to provide a jolt strong enough for him to fight back against Voldemort. If Albus isn’t strong enough to shock Scorpius, and I can’t think of anyone that would get through to him more than Albus, then we need to shock Voldemort and weaken his hold.” 

“Then it’s settled,” said Teddy, their voice sinking easily into a passable imitation of Albus Dumbledore’s. Draco had been the first person to brew the potions for Teddy that would allow their voice to shift with their form and had never imagined it being put to this use. He got goosebumps just at the sight as Teddy set to work unlocking the door with their knife.

Harry very unsubtly attempted to move in front of Teddy before pushing the door open and striding into the dormitory. Teddy and Draco followed him inside, and all conversation in the room ceased. 

The common room was full. Most Slytherins were bowed on their knees, but a few of them, including both of the Moores and Emmanuel Burke, were standing wandless beside a young woman with silvery blue hair. Albus was in front of Ezra with his arms outstretched, and Scorpius had his wand trained lazily on Albus. He turned to look at them as they burst into the common room, and the smug look on his face faded as Albus shouted, “DAD!” and Emmanuel Burke fell to his knees and blurted out, “Oh, thank Merlin, it’s Harry Potter!”

Draco was knocked back at the sight of Voldemort’s red slits replacing Scorpius’s — and Draco’s — grey eyes. Voldemort did not seem at all concerned with Draco. He didn’t even seem concerned with Harry. He gaped at Teddy, a look of uncertainty passing his face to be quickly replaced with fury. “You.”

“Tom,” said Teddy softly. “You don’t want to do this.”

“You are dead,” Voldemort spat.

“As are you, Tom,” Teddy said.

Voldemort faltered then moved his wand away from Albus. The young woman who must be Delphi focused hers on Albus immediately after and shot Harry a challenging look. “Do not dare — do not — you dare speak that name?”

“I have never feared you, Tom, and I do not intend to begin now.”

Harry was watching Teddy warily, clearly afraid that they were going to push this too far. The plan proved effective in that Voldemort was thrown for a loop and seemed thoroughly disoriented. It was a failure in that, the moment that Voldemort collected himself, he screamed,  _ “Crucio!” _

Teddy dropped to their knees. For a second, they tried to fight the urge to scream, but then the combination of Voldemort’s fury and the Elder Wand overpowered them. They screamed in agony and lost control of their shapeshifting, returning to a form that Draco realized instinctively, although he had never seen it before, was what Teddy’s form must have been like without any magic being applied. They looked so much like their father, and Harry attempted to scream, “NO!”

The ineffectiveness of the scream probably did more to grab Voldemort’s attention than it would have if he’d succeeded to produce noise. Even Albus, who had been watching the Elder Wand with an odd look on his face, looked at his father in alarm. Voldemort regarded him coolly. There was a lot to observe — Harry was pale with bruises all over his throat and robes drenched with someone else’s blood, although that might not be obvious to an outside observer as Albus gasped in horror and Emmanuel, realizing he might have played his cards too soon, whimpered.

“And what happened to you, Harry Potter?” Voldemort asked. He shifted his wand to Teddy and briefly to Draco and ordered, “Drop your wands, or everyone in this room will die, starting with Albus Severus and the shapeshifter.” 

Teddy weakly pulled their wand out of their pocket and threw it halfway across the floor. Voldemort moved his wand back to Harry, who held his hands up and rasped, “Greyback snapped mine and Draco’s.”

“And what happened to Greyback?”

“He’s dead, and all his accomplices ran.”

Voldemort smiled. “I thought you weren’t a killer, Harry Potter?”

“I killed him,” interrupted Draco. 

If Scorpius was anywhere in that body, then the sight of Draco was not enough to jolt it out of him. Voldemort looked Draco over thoughtfully then smiled even wider. The new set of features brought Voldemort the closest Draco had ever seen to showing a human emotion, but the sight on his son’s face was sickening. “Who knew you had it in you, Draco? Perhaps you were worthier than your useless father. Your child exceeds the both of you, and I really must thank you for creating the perfect vessel for me — a child of immense power with enough rage and loneliness that he would be so easy to control. Excellent work, Draco.”

Draco tore his eyes away from Voldemort to look at Albus’s betrayed look then Harry’s blank expression. “I — I didn’t.”

Voldemort walked back towards Harry. “You believe me, don’t you? You believe that Draco Malfoy has been working to bring me back for twenty years.”

“I don’t,” Harry whispered hoarsely.

“But you believe he’ll come back to me now?”

Harry was silent. Draco’s face was frozen in an expression of sheer horror when Voldemort looked to him again. “Come join me. You will never be accepted as you are elsewhere, Draco. You will always be their enemy.”

It took Draco a long time to collect himself. “No.”

“Come join me, and be rewarded, Draco.” Voldemort pulled a stone out of his pocket and showed it off to Draco. The resurrection stone hovered an inch off his palm. “We can bring her back. I will bring her back for you.”

“The only person I want back is Scorpius,” Draco said firmly.

“Then we’ll work on saving him. Join me, and we will find a way to keep your son intact.”

“He’s lying!” Albus shouted. 

Voldemort ignored him. “Show me your arm, Draco.”

“Professor Malfoy, Scorpius would not want you to do this,” Albus said. 

“But I am Scorpius,” Voldemort said pleasantly, which made Albus cringe. “I know everything he knows.” He smiled at Harry. “I know you were closer to right than anyone.”

“That’s not true!”

His wand returned to point directly at Albus’s face. “Scorpius is still here, little Potter. Everything I do, he is allowing me to do.” 

Albus recoiled as his wand moved from Albus to Ezra then abruptly focused on Draco Malfoy and shouted,  _ “Crucio.” _

Draco shouted and fell to his knees, and Albus gasped. Voldemort regarded him ambivalently for a moment then remarked, “You haven’t gotten any better at this, have you?” He removed the spell. “Come on. Get up. I have a message I need to get out to those who actually remained loyal.”

“The dead ones or the ones in Azkaban?” Draco whispered. 

“They won’t be in Azkaban for long.”

Very slowly, Draco stood up and exposed the dark mark, barely flinching as Voldemort pressed the tip of his wand to it and caused it to burn red hot against his skin. Draco stared at the ground ahead of him as Voldemort stepped back and said, “Come stand beside me, Malfoy.”

Voldemort had already lost interest in him by the time that Draco came to stand away from Harry and Teddy. Teddy was bowed over on the ground, and Harry Potter didn’t seem to have any grand plan in the works for how to defeat Voldemort. He was lucky to be standing, but the fact that Voldemort hadn’t yet attempted to kill him in this weakened state, Draco realized, meant a great deal.

Then the door to the common room was kicked (unnecessarily as it had been opened by Teddy’s knife) in, and the room exploded in flashes of silver and blue light as four different voices shouted various protection spells. Voldemort looked shocked for only a second then slashed his wand through the air and sent James, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny flying back into the walls. James hit his head hard and dropped both his wand and the Marauder’s Map before hitting the ground. 

Draco looked around, unsure of what their plan had been, before realizing that all the students other than Albus, who had been grabbed by Delphi in time, had been thrown onto the opposite side of the common room by the stairs up to the dorms and now had a fairly powerful shield erected between them and the Riddles, although Draco highly doubted that it could hold against a concentrated attack from the Elder Wand.

Delphi jabbed her wand into Albus’s neck and shouted, “Everyone drop their wands!”

They did not need to be asked twice. Four wands were kicked forward, and Voldemort summoned them the rest of the way before taking his sweet time as he very deliberately snapped each one of them along with Teddy’s.

“Everyone go to your rooms,” Hermione shouted. “Now!”

The students hesitated, and Ginny shouted, “She’s the bloody Minister!”

That was all it took for absolutely every single Slytherin beyond the barrier to sprint up the stairs to the dorms. Voldemort spared them only a glance before slamming the door to the common room shut and sealing them in with whatever spell must have locked it before. He hesitated for a moment then sent binds around everyone other than Albus and Draco, who exchanged a brief helpless look of mutual self-pity.

“So what I want to know, Harry Potter,” said Voldemort. “Is without a wand, and without  _ the power of love, _ how do you ever intend to beat me now?”

“When did we lose love?” Ron whispered to Hermione. 

Harry glared at him, and Voldemort sneered. “Perhaps I gave you too much credit. You really are just like your pathetic son.”

“Sweetheart,” a woman’s voice said softly. Draco gasped and looked around to see Astoria, looking so young and so beautiful, bound on her knees a few feet away from Harry. “Scorpius, sweetheart, look at me.”

Draco struggled to remember how Teddy Lupin could so perfectly imitate her face then recalled the day of his father’s funeral, Hermione explaining to a seven-year-old Teddy, _Sometimes people can be so happy that they look sad,_ and Teddy imitating Narcissa’s long blonde hair. Draco and Astoria both humoring each other’s rage later that night as they insulted everyone’s child other than their own, a near-perfect parenting team. 

Draco sobbed and fell back against the wall as Teddy begged, “Scorpius, please.”

Voldemort looked from Teddy to Draco then back to Teddy, unable to pull his eyes off Astoria’s form. His eyes flashed grey, and he stumbled away from them, breathing speeding up rapidly as he looked around the room in wild confusion then back at Teddy. “Mum?”

“Scorpius!” Albus shouted, and Scorpius shot him a confused look, examining the room in horror before taking a step towards Teddy.

“How are you—?”

_ “Crucio!”  _ Delphi screamed, changing her target from Albus to Teddy, who screamed and lost control of their form once again. 

Scorpius shouted, “NO!” and staggered back from Teddy. 

“Nobody moves, or I kill the shapeshifter!” Delphi shouted and repeated,  _ “Crucio!”  _ She reached out to grab his forearm with her free hand until he had calmed down enough for Voldemort to regain control. 

Draco was feeling a surge of renewed hope until Teddy shouted, “PLEASE!” and James screamed. Draco could see in Scorpius’s eyes when Voldemort regained control, and although he did like what that momentary loss of control meant for the chances of rescuing Scorpius, Teddy had begun to beg Delphi for mercy, and Ginny screamed in horror as James, still bound in thick glittering ropes, barreled into Delphi to knock her off balance. Her wand slid across the floor, and Draco stomped on it, leaving the Elder Wand the only functional wand in the room. 

Voldemort threw James against the wall and conjured ropes around Draco like the others. Delphi pushed herself up to her feet and sneered down at James, who was blinking around in confusion. “There are other wands upstairs, my Lord.”

“We only need one if it’s pointed at the right person,” Voldemort said alternating thoughtfully between James and Albus before shooting Albus a mocking smile and focusing it on James. Albus, clearly deep in thought, did not seem to mind what must have been just one more insult in a constant barrage of undermining comments. 

“You’re afraid to try to kill my dad,” Albus said matter-of-factly. “You’ve been stalling this whole evening when you made it very clear you were just here to kill Harry Potter — or, sorry, have someone else kill him for you. Because you know that you’re going to fail. I think you’re afraid to try to kill any of us.”

“Albus,” Draco hissed to get his attention, but Albus ignored him.

“You want us to think you’re the most powerful wizard of all time, but that’s bullshit, and everyone knows that now. The only reason you’re not dead already is because you’re in Scorpius’s body, and he’s actually worth something to the world. Even if you did kill everyone in this room, people would continue to fight you. Because really… you were mostly just hype. Everyone knows your real name now, Tom. You’re a fucking punchline. Every move of Grindelwald’s duel with Dumbledore is studied in the history books, and your death is nothing but a footnote under the Disarming Spell. You’re a joke.”

“I will kill you,” Voldemort hissed. “You arrogant little boy, I have no reason not to kill you.”

“You have no reason not to kill any of us! I think you’re afraid. I think you’re scared that you won’t be able to beat my dad’s love again. You’re afraid to touch us and realize that, once again, Harry Potter is going to defeat you. Love is going to defeat you, and you may have all the magic in the world, but if you can’t learn from a mistake you’ve made multiple times before, you’re a bloody idiot.”

Voldemort looked down at his wand, to Teddy, and back to Albus, and Albus raised his chin like he knew they were both thinking the same thing. Voldemort did not try to curse him, and Draco finally registered that, for whatever reason, Albus was the only person unbound. He might have chocked it up to a power play if Voldemort didn’t look like he was unsure of how to deal with Albus. 

He switched his wand to point at Albus instead of James. “Down, worthless boy, down.” He looked disdainfully at Harry. “Your power has always been grossly exaggerated, Harry Potter, but to produce this pitiful Squib — even I am shocked.”

Delphi was looking at her father warily, awaiting guidance that he wasn’t offering her. Albus didn’t kneel, just glared back at him resolutely. “I guess parentage doesn’t matter, does it, Tom? My dad is the greatest wizard of all time, and your dad was a muggle who got raped by Slytherin’s weakest living descendant.”

“Albus,” Ginny said sharply. “Just get down.”

The red of Scorpius’s possessed eyes were practically glowing. He snarled at Albus and clenched his wand tighter. “Listen to your mother, Albus Severus Potter. If you say another word, I will kill you, and then your parents.”

“But why haven’t you killed me already?” Albus asked loudly, ignoring both of his parents begging him to shut up. “You keep threatening to kill me! You threatened to torture me, and look how that turned out. My dad was protected by his mother’s love, and he protected the school with his love, and I think that you’re afraid you’ll fail if you try to kill any of us! I don’t think Scorpius will let you hurt me either! I think you are so far out of your fucking league even though you’ve already made this mistake twice already, so come on, try to kill me, Riddle! Let’s see if my dad’s won again, shall we? Let’s see if Scorpius is still in there!”

Voldemort faltered. Draco wasn’t the only one who saw it because whatever words Harry and Ginny were about to say caught in their throats. He stepped back from Albus slightly then collected himself and said, “Let’s see if your dad’s protected himself then? Let’s see if little Scorpius is fighting to save your dad.”

Albus inhaled sharply as the Elder Wand was fixed on Harry Potter. Voldemort held Albus’s eyes as he shouted,  _ “Crucio,”  _ and Harry convulsed once. He stayed completely silent, his clenched fists and shaking the only sign that he was still receiving the Cruciatus. 

“It works then,” Voldemort told Albus smugly. He spared Harry one look. “I will be glad to be rid of you, Harry Potter.  _ Avada—“ _

“Wait!” Albus shouted. He lifted his hands in the air. “Wait, wait, I’m sorry. I take it all back. I’m sorry.”

Voldemort lowered his wand just an inch, perhaps as a sign that he was willing to see what Albus had to offer. Without taking his green eyes off the Dark Lord’s red ones, he dropped to his knees in front of him and kept his hands raised above his shoulders.

Draco was definitely not imagining the shift this time. The Dark Lord held Albus’s eyes with an expression of thinly veiled horror and, for a moment, his red eyes flashed gray. Albus’s brow furrowed in confusion. 

Then they were red again, and they stayed red. Voldemort inhaled as if he had to steady himself from something, then he said, “Good boy. Who will I kill first, then?”

If this were anything less than the return of the Dark Lord and concurrent possession of his only son, Draco would look away. Voldemort ran the tip of his wand down Albus’s face in a way that must have been intended to be threatening. A quick reading of the room suggested that no one was looking at it that way, and James, clearly concussed and counting his chickens a little too quickly, was actually smiling at the two of them with an expression of mocking disbelief. Then Albus blushed, and the body of Scorpius Malfoy seemed appalled by either his choice of words or Albus’s reaction. Albus smiled slowly and said, “Me. You can start with me.”

Voldemort faltered again, then he pointed the Elder Wand directly at Albus and whispered,  _ “Avada kedavra.” _

Both Harry and Ginny screamed in wordless horror, and James gasped audibly. Albus’s eyes widened, but he did not crumple. He breathed deeply and nodded to himself, and Voldemort repeated,  _ “Avada kedavra.” _

It failed again. He screamed,  _ “Crucio!”  _ and Albus, hands still in the air, stood up very slowly.

“Father?” Delphi asked hesitantly.

He pushed his wand into Albus’s jugular repeatedly.  _ “Avada kedavra. Crucio. Crucio!” _

“My Lord?” Delphi said.

Albus reached out very slowly for the hand holding out Voldemort’s wand, and Voldemort neither moved back nor attempted to fire another spell when his fingers touched the Elder Wand. The silence was very heavy, then Ron shouted, “Oi, Delphi!”

Several things happened then. Delphi glanced away from Scorpius and Albus to look at Ron, who threw underhand a crumpled firework that must have sat in his pocket for months in her face. Albus very carefully pulled the Elder Wand out of Scorpius’s shaking hand and screamed, “Dad!” before throwing it to Harry while Delphi was momentarily distracted, and Harry stunned her while she attempted to avoid a firework that just spelled the word TWAT.

He scrambled to his feet and had his wand on the red-eyed Scorpius in a second. Scorpius looked horrified and furious and exhausted and couldn’t tear his eyes away from Albus, who didn’t even glance at his father as he begged, “Dad, don’t kill him!”

_ “Brachiabindo,”  _ Harry gasped.  _ “Petrificus totalus.”  _ He looked behind him and removed any binds on Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Teddy, James, and Draco then ordered, “Albus, check him and see if he’s got Scorpius’s wand.”

“Dad, he  _ is _ Scorpius!”

“Not relevant right now, Al! Check if he’s got another wand on him!”

Albus nodded weakly then rummaged around in his pockets until he retrieved Scorpius’s wand and handed it to his father. Harry pulled him into a tight hug in which neither of them sobbed but both of them quaked alarmingly. Ginny, James, and Teddy rushed over to join the two of them, and Ron pointed out, “What kind of tosser wouldn’t give his spare wand to his daughter? Honestly.”

Draco approached the petrified body of his son and stared down at it until someone tapped on his arm. He turned around to see Teddy Lupin giving him an apologetic smile. “He’s a really strong kid,” Teddy said. “I’ve always really liked Scorpius.”

“Thank you,” Draco said hoarsely. Tears burned his eyes. “For — for what you did, no one else could have done that.”

“Oh, Draco, I came to apologize. I should have warned you — as soon as you said you thought only Albus could get through to him, and then Voldemort offered to bring her back… I can only imagine how shocking it would have been to see that happen with the face of someone I loved, and I should have told you I was considering it before we went in the room.”

“No, it — it was really incredible. You have nothing to apologize for here. You were what made him fight.” 

Teddy hugged Draco, who collapsed into the hug mostly because he could barely stand. Everyone took a moment to collect their bearings, then Harry broke off from his family to converse quietly with Hermione. She nodded quickly and let out a piercing whistle. 

“Oi, so few people in here, Hermione,” James said.

“Aunt Hermione,” she corrected him.

“We fought Voldemort together!” James protested. “We’re peers now. Right, Harry?”

“James,” Harry rasped.

“Mr. Potter, sir,” said James, apparently giddy with relief as he pulled Albus into a tight hug before Albus squirmed away from him to go sit down next to Scorpius’s body. Teddy patted Draco on the shoulder and ran over to James to take over the hug.

“Okay, first thing’s first,” said Hermione. “Harry, Draco, Teddy, James — you all need medical attention. Albus, did he hurt you?”

“No, I said he didn’t,” Albus said petulantly. Ginny looked touched to see him whining again.

“Okay, well, Harry, you need to go to St. Mungo’s. James and Teddy, Madam Pomfrey should suffice. Draco, I don’t really know what’s going on with you, so… St. Mungo’s, I suppose?”

“I overexerted myself,” said Draco. 

“Well, you do not handle exertion gracefully,” observed Hermione. “Go get yourself checked out in the Hospital Wing, then report to me at the Ministry, and we’ll figure out how to get Voldemort’s soul out of his body. Harry — St. Mungo’s, and I don’t want to see you on your feet for another 24 hours, at least. Ginny, could you go fill in Minerva and Neville on what’s happened? Ron, come with me, and we’ll bring Delphi to the Ministry together. Albus, you — just stay by Scorpius.”

“Right,” said Albus coldly, who had looked up warningly at the sound of his name as if daring anyone to tell him to go elsewhere.

“If you would like to collect everyone’s wand fragments first—“

“I would not. Thank you for asking.”

Ginny sighed. “I’ll get the wand fragments.”

“I can do it, mum,” said James helpfully. “I will get all those fragments.”

“James, you are clearly concussed,” Ginny said.

“I won the Quidditch Cup two years ago with a worse concussion!”

“James, you lost that game abysmally,” whispered Teddy. “We’ve been over this. You just don’t remember because you were so horribly concussed.”

James frowned. “Fair enough. I will go to the Ministry.”

“Infirmary,” corrected Teddy.

“Yes, to there.”

Teddy kissed James’s forehead and then set to work collecting the pieces of theirs, Hermione’s, Ron’s, Ginny’s, and Albus’s wands from the floor of the Slytherin common room. They frowned down at Delphi’s then tossed them in the fireplace.

“Where are we going to put Scorpdemort?” asked Ron.

Albus scowled up at him. “Don’t call him that.”

“It was in bad taste,” Ron admitted, beaming back at Albus. “I apologize. You did a wonderful job, I might add, Albus.”

Albus looked puzzled. “Yeah, I mean… if knowing how bullies provoke you is a real skill, then I… have it.”

Ron’s smile widened. “Yup, that’s what I’m referring to.”

Ginny shot Ron a glare to be quiet and suggested, “There’s a quarantine room in the Hospital Wing. We could keep him tied up in there, keep him unconscious for as long as possible?”

Draco nodded. “I’ll speak with Madam Pomfrey about the best way to induce a coma. I should have some valuable potions in my office.”

“Coma?” Albus repeated.

Teddy handed the wand fragments to Harry, who thanked them quietly and began tapping each fragment with the Elder Wand and whispering,  _ “Reparo.” _

“Excuse me,” said Draco, ignoring Albus’s reasonable but ultimately irrelevant concern. “Does that wand answer to you again? How does that work out?”

“I think it just does what it wants,” Harry rasped as he passed out the repaired wands. “I can’t imagine why anyone would want to use it.” He handed both Albus and Scorpius’s wands to Draco and said, “No wands allowed in the same room as Scorpius, alright?”

“It likes you, dad!” said James. “It wants to be your friend and to help you destroy dark lords.”

Hermione whistled again. “We’re settled! James, Teddy — bring Albus and Scorpius up to the Hospital Wing now. Draco, Ginny will walk you to your office first before finding the Headmistress. Ron, make sure Delphi’s stunned and levitate her with me to Neville’s Floo. Harry, go to the bloody hospital! Do not let me catch you saying another word, do you hear me?”

Harry nodded dutifully.

James helped Albus to his feet and pointed his wand at Scorpius’s unconscious body before Albus pushed his hand out of the way. “You’ll drop him or bump him into things! Teddy will do it.”

“That I will, Albus,” Teddy promised before levitating Scorpius’s body carefully into the air.

“You know what’s so silly?” James asked Teddy sotto voce as the four of them left the dormitory. “Think about how mad Lily is going to be when she finds out that she missed a family Voldemort sesh.” 

The door shut, and Ginny asked, with an expression of complete bafflement, “Did my son just call this ‘a family Voldemort sesh’?”

“He really did,” said Ron, smiling widely now that the children were out of the room. “Here, I thought Voldemort seshes were our thing. First Voldemort sesh for you, huh, Draco? What did you think?”

“Oh, easily lived up to the hype. I got to see Potter come back from the dead. I got the whole show.”

“You really need to stop doing that, Harry,” Hermione snapped.

“Dying or coming back after?” he rasped then grinned at her weakly and rubbed his throat, the pain likely sinking in now that the adrenaline was leaving his system. She raised an eyebrow, and he waved at everyone obediently and took Ginny’s hand to head off to Neville’s office.

“Between you and us, Draco,” Ron whispered. “I was holding this in for the Potters’ sakes, and I need to let it out.”

Hermione sighed. “Oh, Ron, honestly.”

“Honestly, Hermione! The amount that Scorpius Malfoy wants to fuck my nephew just saved all of our lives, and I, personally, think that is beautiful.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “That isn’t - that’s not what did it!”

“Uh huh. Uh huh. Sure. So you’re just going to live life pretending that Voldemort wasn’t going to kill us all before Albus got on his knees and exchanged a little BDSM flirting with him? Because I will never forget it. In fact, I think I need to owl George immediately.”

“They’re children,” said Hermione. “And apparently so are you.”

“Tom Marvolo Riddle: defeated twice by the love of a mother and once by the sexual frustration of a teenage boy. Incredible.” Ron couldn’t stop smiling. He had always been one of the most relaxed adults around Scorpius, and Draco had wondered if he was going to hold his breakup with Rose against him after the fact. He was now quite sure that Ron would love Scorpius forever. He probably loved him even more now that he was safely away from their daughter. “Absolutely incredible.”

“Just call it love, Ron,” Hermione said. “It’s all… it’s all the same thing!”

“This, too, is love,” Ron joked. “Look, okay, all I’m saying is that, you can love someone very much, but when they’re down on their knees and looking up at you like that, love is not the first thing on your mind. That’s all. That’s the point I’m making.” He read the room and sighed. “Please let me owl George. He’ll see what I see.”

“We all… we all see what you see, Ron,” sighed Hermione. “It would just be so much lovelier if we focused on what Teddy did.”

“That helped,” said Ron quickly. “Allowed Albus to sneak in there and flirt with the Dark Lord, and I, for one, loved every second of it, especially once I realized none of us were going to die.” He smiled faintly. “It’s always nice — that moment when you realize you aren’t about to die.”

Someone cleared their throat from the top of the stairs, and Hermione whispered, “The children!”

“Is Albus still here?” Ezra asked quietly as he walked halfway down the stairs. He looked from the unconscious Delphi to Ron, Hermione, and Draco and practically melted in relief before bursting into tears and racing into Hermione’s arms, who caught him and hugged him without batting an eyelash as he started to cling to her and sob. At the top of the stairwell, more Slytherins were poking their heads out to survey the common room. Quite a few students had been crying and most of them looked ashen and shaky, but they all hung back warily as Ezra held tightly to Hermione.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Hermione asked softly. “Did he hurt you? We can take you to the Hospital Wing.”

Ezra sniffled and shook his head. “He was going to kill me, but Albus didn’t let him. And I — I spent four years here making jokes about being a muggle-born, and I didn’t — I didn’t appreciate that so, so many people died and suffered because they were muggle-borns, and I treated it like it was a joke, and then he almost killed me, and he did kill Iwan and Edith.”

Hermione stroked his hair and made reassuring noises as she looked over his head to exchange frantic eye contact with Draco, who had up until this point been internally celebrating a successful Voldemort defeat with the only casualty being Fenrir Greyback, which was even better than no casualties at all. He had really liked Iwan, too. Edith was a great kid who didn’t deserve to die, but Iwan had been one of his favorites since he was a first year.

Ezra was whispering to Hermione quietly, who knelt down in front of him and showed him a scar on her forearm that made him burst into tears all over again. Draco glared up at the Slytherins to see if anyone would dare shoot Ezra a scornful look, but they looked universally distressed and guilt-ridden. Draco’s frown softened, and he called, “Who all is missing?”

“Iwan, Edith, and Craig,” reported Stuart, struggling to tear his gaze away from Ezra and Hermione. “We think that… Albus pointed it out, but the girl and the werewolves — they were all Polyjuiced as missing students. The other two were Hufflepuffs, we think — Alys Morgan and Blaine Alby.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Ron whispered, all good humor fading instantly.

“I’ll deal with it,” Draco promised. “You two get moving with Delphi. I’ll talk to McGonagall and start reaching out to parents.”

“Only Iwan and Edith are confirmed dead,” Stuart said hopefully.

Draco nodded, more to make Stuart feel better because there was no chance that Death Eaters would be taking prisoners this early into Voldemort’s return. Stuart looked as if he already knew that and walked down the stairs to stand by Ezra, who released the Minister of Magic and hugged Stuart tightly. Draco took an awkward step towards them, because they were so traumatized and reminded him so much of Scorpius, then steeled his nerves. If he got caught up comforting every student who was upset by seeing the return of Lord Voldemort, he would never have time to help Scorpius. 

“Alright, you lot,” Draco called. Everyone looked at him with more focus and respect than he had ever seen from his students. “Do not leave the dorm. I’ll have some House-elves send over food, and I or someone else will come by to speak with you all in greater detail when —“ 

“Go fix Scorpius!” Rhiannon shouted, a cry that was echoed by the remaining fourth years.

“I, yes — of course!” Draco said hurriedly. “Of course I will!”

“Go!” Ezra shouted in a thick voice, and he and Stuart ushered the three adults out of the common room. 

Draco looked around wildly before Hermione pointed him down the hall and said, “Lab first, then Hospital Wing, McGonagall for the children, grab any useful books you find in the library, and join me in my office for research,” and Draco nodded. Ron clapped him on the shoulder supportively, and the two of them sprinted in the direction of Neville’s office with Delphi’s unconscious and bound body floating along with them.


	18. The Hospital Wing (February 2017)

Scorpius blinked his heavy eyelids open, feeling disoriented, confused, and somewhat paranoid. It didn’t take him too long to realize what had happened, and he moaned, to no one in particular, “I did too much drugs.”

His complaint was followed by a loud gasp, and the warm pillow at his side jerked away from him. He looked wearily in the direction of the gasping pillow to see Albus staring at him in astonishment. “Scorpius!”

Scorpius tried to stretch and found himself unable to move his arms or legs. His arms were held against the ceiling behind him, invisibly bound just as Sirius had done in the alternate timeline, and he scowled. “This is the third time this has happened to me.”

Albus let out a shocked, giddy peel of laughter. He was crying, Scorpius noted blearily, and Scorpius assured him, “It’s fine. I don’t mind. Don’t cry, Al.”

Albus hugged him tightly, able to find a way to wrap his arms around Scorpius’s awkwardly restrained torso with ease, and Scorpius struggled to identify the last thing he could concretely remember. He must have had some awful drug-induced nightmare about his mother, and before that, the last thing he could remember was Alwin Flint throwing his beater’s bat at him.

Scorpius nodded wisely. “A bludger got me, did it?”

Albus covered his mouth then pulled his hand back to show a watery smile. “I think you’re still a bit out of it, Scorpius.”

“Oh, no, the bludgers,” Scorpius moaned. “Why do they let them in the game, Albus? It would be so much fun without them.”

Albus was both sobbing and laughing, so Scorpius ascertained that he must have taken quite a nasty blow. The sound alerted someone outside the door, and Scorpius realized he had no idea what room he was in. It wasn’t the Hospital Wing but also wasn’t St. Mungo’s or his bedroom. Rose’s dad poked his head in and called, “I heard noise, Al. Everything okay?”

“He’s awake!” Albus shouted. “Get his dad.”

“You’re sure it’s him, are you?” He asked warily. “I can knock him out again. Draco’s in class right now.”

“It worked. I promise. He’s complaining about bludgers being too violent.”

“Bless him,” said Rose’s dad affectionately, which Scorpius took as a sign that he was still dreaming. He couldn’t figure out a situation in which Albus would be in his bed and Rose’s dad beaming at the two of them. 

“Knock me out?” Scorpius asked when Ron had closed the door. “Did something happen?”

Albus grabbed his face in both hands and kissed him hard and without finesse on his lips, mostly just holding their faces together and breathing hard through his nose until Scorpius parted his lips and began to move encouragingly. He attempted to grab Albus and made an irritated noise when he was reminded again of the invisible ropes around his wrists. He struggled against them fruitlessly until Albus climbed on top of him and said, “Sh.”

Scorpius quite liked that and obediently went still as Albus straddled his waist. He resisted the urge to grind up into him until he could sort out his thoughts because although this felt very familiar, he had a niggling feeling that they had not done this before outside of Scorpius’s vivid imagination. “Albus,” he whispered. “I should tell you that if we’ve done this already, I’m afraid I might have been too on drugs to remember.”

Albus pulled back to frown at him. “Would you really apologize to me if I kissed you while you were on too many drugs to remember? Holy shit, Scorpius.”

“Well, I would have assumed that I had initiated.”

“Even still. Slytherin has mandatory lectures on this every semester for a reason.”

“Right. The mandatory lectures. Okay, then, I still think that I’m missing something.”

Albus nodded and started to climb off Scorpius, and Scorpius said, “Woah, woah… you can explain from up there. Don’t — don’t get crazy, Albus.”

“I value your affirmative consent,” Albus said. 

“I value you valuing it.”

“I apologize for not asking for it sooner. I was swept away in the moment and should not have relied on nonverbal cues alone.”

“We really crushed those mandatory biannual lectures,” Scorpius said appreciatively. 

“21st century Slytherin,” Albus agreed. “But actually, I should get off, because this is very serious.”

“My personal vote is for you to stay on my lap, but I want you to be your most comfortable.”

“Alright, then I will stay on your lap, but if, at any point, you want me to get off, then just let me know, and I won’t be offended.”

“Sounds good,” said Scorpius with a smile, all his paranoia forgotten. Then Albus’s smile faltered and he looked suddenly very worried, and the paranoia returned with a vengeance. “Did something happen? I — you’re alive, and my dad is alive.”

Albus put a hand to his heart. “Okay, so, Scorpius, you know how you told me about those nighttime dissociations ever since you got back from the alternate reality?”

“I do,” Scorpius said slowly. “Am I getting chained down to sleep now? That’s fine, I guess, but I wish we could come up with a better solution.”

“No, Scorpius, don’t try to guess — or do, I don’t want to cut you off. I’m sorry. You have the floor.”

“No, tell me what happened.”

Albus nodded. “So when you were waking up in all those strange places, what you had been doing was hunting for the Deathly Hallows, which were scattered around the grounds by my dad with the hopes that no one would ever find them in what I personally consider to be a very Voldemort-y act of hubris. And speaking of Voldemort, he was the one that was possessing you, but, on the bright side, everyone is now more sure than ever that you are not his son. Seriously, that rumor is gone. Mostly because Voldemort and Delphi gave every member of Slytherin house and most of our parents a speech about how isolating you based on that rumor is why it was so easy for him to take you over — not that it was easy! You lasted months before succumbing, and you beat him off in the end — or, no, I mean — you beat him in the end.”

“The horcrux possessed me,” Scorpius said. He should have felt more shocked than he did, but mostly, he just felt a sense of overwhelming guilt as he realized that part of him had always suspected that this is what had been happening. He could have warned Harry Potter to take preemptive measures but was too afraid of getting in trouble.

“Yeah, there was a new prophecy and everything. I — I don’t quite remember it, honestly, it was a very tense situation, but you were called the ‘false son’, and I was in there too. It was all very literal.”

Scorpius stared at him then said, in an effort to appear cool, “Okay, go on.”

“Go on?” repeated Albus. “That’s what happened.”

“There are a few steps between me being possessed and waking up strapped down to a bed, Albus.”

“You aren’t strapped down,” Albus told him. “Your dad found it upsetting, as did I, and this configuration made it easier for us to feed you potions.”

“Sorry, is that supposed to help relax me?”

“No, I’m sorry. Okay, so we were in the common room together — we’re allowed to be friends again, by the way. Um, obviously. And then we noticed that a bunch of the missing students were suddenly just in the common room, so you told me to leave and get my dad, and then Voldemort took over from there, and Delphi and Fenrir Greyback, which is the name of that boggart your dad had when he was teaching me Occlumency, remember? He’s a werewolf, and he had other werewolves with him. Voldemort sent off Fenrir and the other werewolves to kill my dad, and we were left with just him and Delphi. He demanded that Slytherins started declaring themselves, which everyone did one-by-one other than Ezra, obviously, who had been very pointedly left to the end.”

“What about Iwan and Edith?” Scorpius interrupted.

“Delphi and Fenrir had Polyjuiced as them,” Albus said quietly.

Scorpius slid down until his chained wrists stopped his descent. “Oh. That’s so — that’s awful. Is Ezra okay?”

“Ezra’s fine and more absurd than ever now really,” Albus assured him. “Voldemort asked Adelaide then Emmanuel to kill him, and they — well, they didn’t say ‘no’ exactly, but they’ve apologized profusely, and Ezra is not going to hold it against them. But he’s fine. Voldemort got distracted. About half of those flowers and gifts to your left are from him because apparently he’s  _ obscenely _ wealthy in the muggle world. Did you know that? His family is the muggle Malfoys. It makes more sense why he found being considered part of a persecuted group to be funny.”

Scorpius frowned at the pile. “Did he buy me a broom? They cannot want me to stay on the team. Also, I am about 99% sure that he’s Jewish. Was he the one to say that this is his first time being part of a persecuted group? He must be very sheltered.”

Albus shrugged. “If he is, no dark muggles have threatened him with a muggle gun-wand for being Jewish before.”

“Hitler Skitler is long gone,” Scorpius, who had learned a great deal from his father about muggle history during his formative years, said wisely. “Why is he thanking me?” Scorpius asked. “Didn’t I almost kill him?”

“No, I don’t really think so. Do you want to go to the Maldives this summer? Trick question, we all have to go. It’s been planned.”

Scorpius gasped. “In a muggle aeroplane?”

“If you prefer that to a nice, safe Portkey,” Albus said dubiously.

Scorpius beamed at him. “I am so excited to go on an aeroplane!”

Albus cast an odd glance at the pile of gifts that Scorpius had paid almost no attention to. Scorpius wasn’t the best gift receiver. He was delighted by almost any book and unenthusiastic about most other things. “Okay, so after Voldemort was done focusing on Ezra, we talked for a bit about my dad. He didn’t really hurt anyone.”

Scorpius wanted to grab him very badly and check his body for wounds that would not be there if the torture was done with magic anyway. “He didn’t hurt you?”

Albus smiled slowly and said, “No, he — he couldn’t. It really threw him off. Then our dads and Teddy Lupin burst in, after your dad had taken down Fenrir Greyback and they were all just fucking covered in blood, but Teddy Lupin had guised up as Albus Dumbledore. Voldemort was really shocked, but he cast the Cruciatus on Teddy, and it worked and drained enough of their energy that they lost control of their form. I’d never seen Teddy without any metamorphmagus alterations, and they looked a lot like the pictures that I’d seen of their dad, so my dad got really upset — not that he wouldn’t have been upset about Teddy. Teddy was the MVP of the night, but the shock of seeing them in so much pain that they lost control over their metamorphmagus abilities really upset everyone.”

“Yeah, I could imagine,” breathed Scorpius, who felt very distressed at the idea of Teddy not looking the way that Teddy wanted to look. It seemed inherently wrong, and he could imagine how Harry Potter must have felt seeing his godchild lose that part of themselves. “Is Teddy okay?”

“Teddy’s fine. Teddy saved the day. They got tortured worse than everyone else because they put themselves out there more, but they and James were out of the Hospital Wing in an hour.”

“What happened to James? You didn’t say James was there.”

“Well, James doesn’t go places without Teddy, so where else he would have been? Plus me and dad and whatnot, but Teddy was only even there because they apparently spend every hour that Teddy isn’t at Auror training sneaking around the castle. James and Teddy had found our dads, and then James went off to get reinforcements, and your dad stepped up and talked to Voldemort for a bit. It was a lot of talk, as you may have realized already, because Voldemort seemed really wary to try to use magic on any of us. Your dad got a little tortured, but he’s fine. James burst in with my mum and Rose’s parents, and they started firing off all these spells — oh, no one had a wand at that point. I should have mentioned that. Every single person had their wand snapped that night. It’s got to be a record for a battle. James had the Map, and I think they’d planned before going in that they wanted to erect a shield between all the uninvolved students and everyone else, so all the Slytherins went up to the dorms, and they turned over their wands to get snapped. Here’s where it gets upsetting, though. Are you okay?”

Scorpius frowned. “It’s going to get more upsetting?”

Albus nodded solemnly.

“Can you, um, sit next to me and maybe give me a hug?”

“Yes, of course!” Albus said quickly, rolling off of him and pulling him into a warm but somewhat uncomfortable hug with his arms fixed in position over his head. “Okay, so everyone had given up their wands other than Voldemort and Delphi, and we were all distracted, and then this woman spoke, this woman’s voice, and she said your name.”

Scorpius remembered the nightmare he’d woken up from, the image of his mother screaming in agony on the same bed that he had sat on and held her hand as she slipped peacefully into death. He nodded, eyes burning. “My mum.”

“Yes!” Albus said, sounding very relieved. “You remember! That was when you took control again for a bit, when Teddy took the form of your mother, and it probably would have worked, but then Delphi tortured Teddy until they lost the form and—“

“Screamed for mercy, yes, I remember,” Scorpius whispered.

“Teddy is fine, and Teddy will be delighted to see that you’re okay too,” Albus said firmly. “Teddy does not regret what happened at all. Delphi just sustained the curse for a little too long, so James sort of tackled her, and then your dad stomped on her wand, but Voldemort had already taken control again at that point. He kept flickering after that, though. Teddy had clearly jolted your mind back into activity. Hermione thinks maybe it was so easy for him to take you over in the first place because of all the drugs in your system, actually. Your mental faculties were down.”

“I appreciate that theory,” Scorpius said grimly.

“It’s fine! Everything was fine. Voldemort decided who to kill first, and we had a nice conversation and mutually decided that it should be me, but none of the spells he was casting at me actually had any effect. It was all a very nice ending. He got confused, and I just kind of slid the Elder Wand out of his hand and tossed it to my dad, and it was all done! Delphi’s in Azkaban.” Albus sounded like he was graciously resisting the urge to gloat or call her a few nasty names.

“You just slid the Elder Wand out of his hand?” Scorpius repeated, almost positive that there was more to this story than Albus was telling him.

“He was half you after what Teddy had done,” Albus said. “We brought you here, and you were kept in what should have been a dreamless sleep for about two weeks while your dad and Hermione tried to figure out a solution, which they did, and we would have woken you up first to discuss, but sometimes we’d test pulling up your eyelids while you were asleep, and sometimes they were gray and other times red, so your dad decided to do it while the coma was still induced magically. The solution was — well, I can’t explain it very well. I know that my dad called in some absolutely absurd favors for basilisk venom, phoenix tears and hairs from the same kelpie and demiguise as your first and second wand cores to fix your identity — how did I not know that was your new wand core, demiguise hair? Where did you even get that? Either of those? Who makes it? Why not just use a normal core instead of getting a designer American wand? Although if you’d had my dad’s wand, you’d have been completely fucked! Imagine that. It was the only way the magic could recognize your identity over Voldemort’s. And then — this is how Ron put it: If we’re keeping score, then my dad has died and come back to life two times, and you and Jesus are both tied for one. Hermione says that’s ridiculous and muggles induce death all the time as a medical thing, which sounds absurd to me, but she swears that plenty of muggles have come back from what is scientifically considered to be death. Anyway, then you were kept under for about another week while all the potions flushed out of your system, and now you’ve woken up.”

Scorpius stared at him, and Albus attempted to smile back weakly. “But I think you’re fine now!”

“So, I — I died. How long have I been in a coma for?”

“Three weeks,” Albus reported.

“And why am I still tied up?”

“Only my dad can remove those,” Albus said. “But he will! We just had to know who would wake up.”

“He doesn’t hate me for being Voldemort?”

Albus actually smiled at that. “You have never seen a person more full of regret than my dad. He feels fucking terrible about what he did and will never get in the way of our friendship again. It is a very widely accepted fact that ostracizing you just because of a rumored connection with Voldemort was a big mistake. A bunch of the Gryffindors even came by, but I honestly think you won most of them over by being completely ridiculous in that Quidditch game.”

“Oh, wow, I did do that,” Scorpius said vaguely. The information had come too fast and too suddenly for him to process all of it adequately. He pulled back from Albus. “I, but — so people did die, though.”

Albus inhaled carefully. “Look, I know I’m probably not the right person to make this argument because of what I said about my dad and Cedric, but it was not your fault what happened to any of them. If anything, you just made it so that Voldemort couldn’t go on to kill even more people.”

“Yeah, that’s… basically exactly the argument I made against blaming your dad for Cedric’s death.”

“And you were right!” Albus said. “You were right about absolutely everything. Really, if you’re pointing fingers, then… a lot of it was my fault. Most of it.”

“No, Albus,” Scorpius said. “Your dad chose to have you.”

Albus actually gasped then smiled incredulously. “That’s the meanest thing I’ve ever heard you say!”

Scorpius leaned forward to nuzzle his face, and Albus breathed out in relief as if he had been waiting for this before nuzzling back. Their lips met, and Albus opened his mouth slightly then shuddered and whimpered each time Scorpius brushed their tongues together. He kept making the most fascinating noises and reactions that Scorpius would love to explore more if he had use of his hands. He moaned loudly as Scorpius sucked on his bottom lip but then flinched and drew his knees up to his chest when Scorpius pulled back to whisper, “Get back on top of me.”

Albus shook his head and avoided Scorpius’s eyes, leaving Scorpius deeply confused as he attempted to pull away from the wall enough to angle himself into Albus’s eyeline. “Are you okay?”

“No! I mean, yes — yes, I’m fine,” Albus assured him. 

Scorpius kissed the side of his mouth, and Albus pulled his knees farther into his chest as he tilted his head back to give Scorpius better access down his neck. Scorpius kissed and sucked along it until he pulled back to try to get Albus to meet his eyes again. He was acting so awkwardly that Scorpius was afraid that he was being too forward and making him uncomfortable, then Albus reluctantly met his eyes so he could see his flushed cheeks and dilated pupils combined with an expression of real fear and apprehension, and Scorpius said, “Oh! You’re embarrassed!”

Albus gaped at him, and Scorpius did appreciate that he probably could have approached that better. “Why — why are you embarrassed? It can’t be your body because it’s amazing and also I’ve personally been that body before. Are you embarrassed because you’re hard? Did you cum? I’m hard too. You can feel if you want. That’s not embarrassing.”

“Scorpius, it’s not a research project, okay?” Albus snapped. “I understand that you have every idea of what you’re doing.”

Scorpius’s smile faltered. “I’m not going to judge you for anything. I just — the way you pulled your legs up, I’m just trying to pick up on context cues.” He paused to consider Albus’s reluctance like a good, well-educated 21st century Slytherin. “Okay, my preference would be for you to climb into my lap, but you don’t want to do that, so let’s just wait until my hands aren’t chained up above me. Right? Because I want to touch you very badly at a point in time when that is what you want me to do.”

Albus glared at him mistrustfully, which Scorpius found increasingly charming and couldn’t resist smiling back at until Albus muttered, “Okay, fuck it,” and climbed on top of Scorpius, who laughed in delight then wished he could cover his mouth because Albus gave him such a hilariously disgruntled look at his reaction.

They only had to grind their hips together two or three times before Albus came, gasping and clinging to Scorpius’s chest as he rode it out. Scorpius figured that logically that was what Albus had been worried about doing to embarrass himself, but Scorpius was a bit too busy finding it incredibly hot to care and kissed Albus’s face until he’d come down, murmuring praises that Albus seemed to enjoy even as he visibly prepared himself to fix Scorpius with a withering, ‘I don’t need you to compliment me on my ability to dry hump you’ glare.

He leaned back to fix Scorpius with his sulkiest glare, and Scorpius beamed up at him and whispered, “You’re amazing,” before stretching up to try to kiss him again. Albus, magnanimous as he was, deigned to close the distance for his restrained friend. The skill with which Albus could switch between desperate, open-mouthed kisses and sulky, grumpy looks the moment that Scorpius pulled away had to be at least half of the reason that he knew without a doubt that Albus was the person for him. Whenever Scorpius smiled or started to laugh, Albus would just get even sulkier and grumpier and then even more desperate and open-mouthed. He was perfect.

Scorpius barely noticed the door opening but did hear Albus’s dad whisper, “Ron, you said you had checked beforehand!”

“I’ve been checking, but it’s been like this for about thirty minutes, so I think you just need to interrupt if you want to talk to them,” said Ron unapologetically. “They’re clothed. What’s the problem?”

“I think maybe  _ you _ should interrupt,” Albus’s dad snapped in an oddly hoarse voice. “You are on interrupting children duty!”

“It’s your turn to have Scorpius date your child,” said Ron smugly. “Enjoy.”

“He’s my son,” Scorpius’s dad declared in a brave voice. ”I will interrupt.”

Albus pulled back to shout, “Yeah, we can hear you!”

“Give us five minutes!” Scorpius called.

“I am delighted you’re alive,” Scorpius’s dad said in a half-icy, half-amused voice before the door was shut again. 

Scorpius looked over him and Albus and said, “Our dads can’t come in here.”

“But it’s almost worse that they’re right outside,” Albus whispered.

“Albus,” Scorpius said very solemnly. “I’m going to need you to tuck my erection for me.”

“This is ridiculous,” said Albus. “I’ll just go get my wand and release you!”

“Okay, but make sure to tuck before you go,” Scorpius warned him. “Good luck out there, old friend, new lover, Albus.”

“You’re absurd,” Albus informed him before pretending he was exasperated at the idea of reaching his hand into Scorpius’s pants. Scorpius gasped and thrust into his hand the moment it touched his bare flesh, and Albus appeared momentarily shocked by his reaction as if he didn’t realize that people other than himself enjoyed being touched then abandoned all pretenses and just jerked him off rapidly until Scorpius came with his face buried in the nook of Albus’s neck. 

Albus again managed to finish only a minute later by grinding his hips against Scorpius, and after a few seconds of catching their breath, Scorpius panted, “Brilliant. Now we’re both ready to see our dads.”

Albus pulled back to stare at him then burst out laughing and wheezed, “Brilliant.”

They both laughed for a long time until Scorpius whispered, “Go on, let them in.”

“I’m not standing up, are you crazy?” Albus hissed back, rolling off Scorpius. “Let’s just…” he suggested and called, “Hey, dad, we’re ready for you!”

Instead of Albus and Scorpius’s dads, James and Teddy Lupin, sporting their characteristic bright blue hair and androgynous bone structure, entered the room. James spread his arms open wide and declared, “Someone called for the teenager whisperers.”

“You two are teenagers,” Albus pointed out.

“We’re here to do assorted cleaning charms,” Teddy translated. “I was learning what spells to use on a festering wound fifteen minutes ago.”

“You won’t need that for this,” Scorpius told them solemnly.

Teddy paused then grinned at him and said, “Scorpius Malfoy, as I live and breathe.”

“Post-orgasmic Albus, as I hope to never but know in my soul that I will see again,” James said.

“We are not the ones drawing this out!” Albus complained. “Just go get my wand, and I’ll do it!”

It took approximately two seconds before they were all cleaned up, and James made a very big show of removing hickeys from Albus’s neck while Albus swatted at him irritably and Scorpius shot the occasional glowing smile at the two of them before returning his attention to Teddy, who had sat down on a stool on Scorpius’s other side.

“I heard about what you did,” Scorpius said quietly as James and Albus figured out their brother dynamic. “I am so sorry about what happened to you and so thankful for what you did.”

Teddy smiled back at him. “Hey, I’m all fine, Scorpius, so the only thing I’d be upset about is if I didn’t do what it took to get you back, okay?”

“You did a lot though,” Scorpius whispered. “Albus said…“

“Hey, Scorpius, I love you. You’re my favorite one of Albus’s friends.”

“I am Albus’s only friend.”

Teddy nodded. “The choice was between saving your life and failing to prevent the return of Voldemort, so I personally think that we worked together to achieve the same goal, didn’t we? I like you very, very much as a person, but don’t give yourself some complex worrying about why we did the things we did to help you, because helping you saved thousands of other people. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Scorpius said slowly. “But you risked so much, and you saved my life.”

“I appreciate that, I do,” said Teddy. “Technically, Albus is the one who got Voldemort to back down, and I like to think he could have done that without me. There was a role that I was uniquely qualified to fill, so I filled it. That’s all it ever is, isn’t it?”

Scorpius leaned in very closely to ask, “Sorry, what did Albus do? He said the spells bounced off him until he pulled the wand out of Voldemort’s hand?”

Teddy smiled. “That’s a you and Albus thing to discuss, but I did, at most, half the work of bringing you back, and that is a generous estimation. The rest just isn’t quite as moving a story, and good stories are what get passed along.”

Scorpius boggled at them then followed their gaze over to where Albus was giggling uncontrollably and smacking at James’s lax hand as he occasionally jabbed at him with his wand. Albus got in a good smack and sent James’s wand skidding across the floor and immediately stuck his bottom lip out in a poor approximation of a sulk as James sputtered.

“Just bring in your dad so Scorpius can get out of his tethers,” Teddy told James. “Honestly, did they expect this not to happen?”

“I expected way worse!” said James. “They’re both fully-clothed. Uncle George told me that everyone was having the most sex in the month after Voldemort died — reunion sex, grief sex, new relationship sex, all the sex. They should have expected this.”

Teddy grinned at the memory of a conversation that should never have happened but was somehow very easy for Scorpius to imagine. “Ron said that they were waiting for Molly to get upset at everyone, but she and Arthur were doing the same thing. They’d all meet up at mealtimes, and no one could meet anyone else’s eyes.”

“Please stop talking and never speak to either of us again,” Albus complained, and Scorpius attempted to curl his spine down to hide his face in his own chest. 

James jumped up and shouted, “Dad! Albus is back to normal again!”

Albus blushed bright red, his eyes darting quickly to Scorpius then down to the bed as if it was embarrassing for him to have been worried about whether or not Scorpius would survive. Of course he would be acting weirdly while Scorpius was in a magically-induced coma. They would have to, at a future point, discuss what was and was not considered to be embarrassing in a relationship. Albus seemed to be embarrassed about the fact that he liked Scorpius, which Scorpius thought they should be pretty far past already.

Both of their dads both slouched into the room, and James and Teddy had a silent conversation in which James clearly begged to be allowed to stay and observe and Teddy put their foot down that Scorpius and Albus must be left alone to talk with their fathers. Finally Teddy, who Scorpius was entirely translating based on eye contact, suggested that they check out that hidden passage on the third floor for old time’s sake, and James left without complaint. 

In the silence that they left behind, no one could make eye contact until Albus’s dad said, “Scorpius, we are all very glad that you’re alive.”

“Tremendously glad,” Scorpius’s dad echoed. 

“I assume that Albus has filled you in,” he continued in a stilted voice.

“Okay, going to stop you right there, Professor Potter. Two points. First point, my dad’s right there, and I almost died, so I’m going to focus on him first. Second point, please release my hands from the wall.”

Professor Potter hesitated, and Albus said, “Come on, dad. He said ‘two points’. It worked. He’s obviously Scorpius.”

He nodded quickly and waved the holly wand, which Albus had suggested had been broken, to release Scorpius’s arms and legs. Scorpius groaned in relief as he finally retracted his limbs, and Albus covered his mouth and curled up into a ball in response. Their dads exchanged long-suffering looks. Scorpius extended his arms, and his dad leaned over to give him the most awkward hug he’d ever received. He patted Scorpius on the back a few times then sat down again. “So how do you feel? Are you disoriented? What’s going on?”

“You mean does it feel like I’ve been chained to a bed for three weeks? My wrists say ‘yes’.”

“Your circulation is fine,” his dad said brusquely. After a long pause, he said, “So I see you and Albus are dating now.”

Albus curled up further into his ball, and Scorpius threw his head back against the wall as Albus’s dad said, “I told you not to ask them that, Malfoy!”

“It is a very simple — okay, we’re just going to go away and come back tomorrow, does that work? And we’ll see if you’re dating then.”

“We’re obviously dating, dad, but I just got possessed by Voldemort and then pumped full of basilisk venom then died, so I don’t see how that’s the first thing you have to say!”

Albus’s dad leaned forward to smack Scorpius’s arm with the back of his knuckles and asked, in a poor attempt to relate to him, “Hey, did you see the other side?”

“No, I did not,” Scorpius said.

Albus’s dad leaned back in his seat, any possible point of connection between the two of them vanished once more. He frowned down at his lap then Albus hissed, “Dad,” and Draco said, “Harry, you go first.”

Harry Potter shut his eyes and nodded. Scorpius rolled his eyes as Harry Potter reached within himself to summon the strength to talk to Scorpius then glanced briefly at Albus, who had his hands cupped over his nose and mouth and was staring directly ahead, which was as much encouragement as Scorpius needed to know that he’d accept any apology Harry Potter gave him.

“Scorpius,” said Harry, and Scorpius looked at him in surprise. His voice had a strange, dusty quality to it now, and Scorpius had no idea where that would have come from. “I owe you a tremendous apology. I have been for you all the worst forces that I experienced when I was a kid. I knew the rumors weren’t true, I understood the power of dangerous rumors, and I didn’t come out to deny them when you were a baby. I allowed them to grow and didn’t even address them until Albus spoke up.”

“That was me,” Scorpius interrupted. “In Polyjuice. Continue, though.”

Harry paused. “Okay, should have guessed that, in retrospect. I didn’t trust the judgment of Albus, who knew you so much better than I did, and refused to listen to the reason of the many people out there who I respect who adore you, including your father. I knowingly put you through the kind of pressure that I experienced. I think I didn’t appreciate someone else could ever have the same experiences as me given the extreme circumstances, but then you went through extreme circumstances too, and I was uniquely suited to help you, and I pushed you further away at every step.” He sighed and bowed his head. “So I am very sorry. And I am so, so glad that you were strong enough to beat it without me.”

Scorpius froze and shot his dad a panicked look, who didn’t have any advice to offer him. Albus emerged from his ball to joke, “Mum wrote a really great apology, dad.”

“It was — it was your aunt Hermione, actually,” Harry said. “I helped! A lot.”

“She midwifed the apology,” Scorpius’s dad suggested helpfully. “Without you, she would have never had any mistakes to base the apology on.”

“What happened to your voice?” Scorpius asked. “You sound weird.”

“Oh, I got choked a bit. It’s fine. It doesn’t affect my breathing at all, so it’s fine. Ginny kind of likes it.”

“Dad!” said Albus in a scandalized voice.

“Albus, you’re going to be fifteen in a few weeks, and it’s important for you to know now that if you shove your relationship in my and your mum’s faces, then we will shove ours right back. Understood?”

“Understood,” Albus muttered then glared at Scorpius as he wrapped his arm around Albus’s shoulders. “Poor timing.”

“Except I just realized that having my wrists released meant I could touch you,” Scorpius pointed out, scratching Albus’s hair affectionately.

Albus started to lean into the touch, and Scorpius’s dad whispered, “Alright, Harry, I think we’re done here. They’re fine.”

“I’ve been done since I reached the Hospital Wing.” Albus’s dad stood up and patted them both on the tops of their heads. “I am glad to see you two coping so well with something that could easily have traumatized two teenagers of lesser resilience and… and single-mindedness.”

Scorpius could hear two chairs sliding out as their dads stood up but didn’t so much as glance away from Albus as they walked to the door. He heard Harry Potter whisper, “So we think he’s forgiven me, right?” and Scorpius’s dad begin, “Well, Scorpius is famously known for his aloof and unrevealing disposition.” as the door closed behind them.

“That could have been really important,” Albus breathed.

“Is Voldemort going to come back if we don’t make smalltalk with your dad right now?”

“No, that seems unlikely,” Albus agreed with a small smile. 

“Okay, then I’d rather focus on single-minded resilience if that works for you.”

Albus blushed, which Scorpius realized he’d never really seen him do before and absolutely adored. It was so different to explore with Albus than with Rose or Sirius — not just because Albus was so much more important to him than either of them were although a small part of him was definitely still in love with both of them, but because Scorpius and Rose had discovered everything for the first time together and Sirius had been infinitely more confident and experienced than Scorpius had been. Now it was Scorpius’s turn to be the confident and experienced one.

As much as he looked for any reason to pout at really any point in his life, Albus seemed fascinated by Scorpius’s experience, which encouraged Scorpius to lean into the role that Sirius had filled for him. He would never say this to him, but Albus definitely struck him as the kind of self-destructive, self-pitying type of person who would jack off to thoughts of the person they liked with someone else. The moment he thought it, he was sure he was right. That kind of behavior had Albus Potter unnecessary drama and angst written all over it. 

The most Scorpius ever felt connected to the version of himself from the alternate universe, whom he privately thought of as Dark Scorpius, was during sex and sex-related activities. The rest of the time, he could not imagine someone who was technically the same person being so aggressive, but the moment he had Albus pinned down, his Dark Scorpius id completely took control. It was a relief, actually, for the worst impulse in his mind to be a horny teenage boy who happened to have been raised by Death Eaters in a dark version of reality. 

Fortunately, Albus appeared to really like this side of him. Scorpius would have happily been more tender and soppy if that’s what Albus had preferred, but he quickly ascertained (and basically already knew) that Albus’s favorite things were intensity and being the sole object of Scorpius’s attention, which worked out perfectly because Scorpius was unassumingly generous by nature and really just wanted to see Albus react to his touch after a year of imagining the ways he might writhe and moan. It turned out that Scorpius knew him very well, and all of his fantasies had been more or less completely accurate, but it was so much more satisfying to witness in reality. 

Albus had inhaled sharply and fixed him with a half-lidded, desirous look the moment that Scorpius pushed him onto his back and pinned his arms over his head with one hand while he slid his other down his side and up again underneath his shirt. Scorpius, still unsure of how much he was allowed to lose himself in the experience, especially after his experience in the alternate reality and more recently with literal demonic possession, tried to remember himself and smile down at Albus. “It just seems fair since I had my hands restrained for the past three weeks.”

He had apparently misread Albus’s reaction as concern because Albus just smiled up at him slowly and said, “I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“I can stop,” Scorpius told him. “I — I would like to do this, anything, in any way that you would like to do this… anything.”

“No, this is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Albus assured him. He hesitated for a second, as he had for most of the afternoon as if he was worried that Scorpius was about to spontaneously stop liking or being attracted to him, then said, “I want you to do whatever you want to me,” and gasped loudly as Scorpius pressed his lips against his and thrust his hand down his pants without requiring another word of encouragement.

Although they had no plans to actually change their behavior just because someone other than Albus might want to talk to Scorpius after three weeks in a magical coma and six months being possessed by Voldemort, it was a relief that they were largely left alone for the next day. They mostly only interacted with James, who had taken it upon himself to mediate between the new couple and the adults so dropped in periodically to bring them food, textbooks, and various bits of news and also took the majority of the guard shifts, which Albus insisted was unnecessary but apparently all the adults had insisted from afar that Scorpius had to be held under observation for at least a week before he could return to the dorm and classes. No one mentioned why Albus had been excused from classes, and Scorpius was both very curious about what he had done to convince them and also afraid he didn’t want to know the answer.

The only time Albus left during the observation period other than showers and assorted bathroom visits was the next day when James knocked on their door and then stuck his head in to report, “Scorpius, shower. Albus, get the fuck out. Rose is going to come by after dinner.”

Albus scowled. “What does Rose want?”

“Not really any of your business, Al. Come on. We can go eat downstairs or maybe even go outside, if you’d believe that such a place still exists.”

“I would just like to know what her intentions are!”

“Albus, we’re all giving you a break because it’s been two days and you both almost died, but codependency isn’t cute. Rose isn’t going to just stop existing and is a very important part of both of your lives.” At Albus’s continued sulky expression, James rolled his eyes and asked, “Scorpius, does Albus have anything to worry about?”

“No!” Scorpius said quickly. “Of course not!”

“Can’t she go make her own friends?” Albus whined.

James paused. “Honestly, unbelievable. Come on, Al.”

“Albus, you should go,” Scorpius whispered, who didn’t want him to leave and didn’t much fancy the idea of a super stilted conversation with Rose but had complete respect for her and the importance of this conversation. “Go get some fresh air. I would love to be able to go outside.”

James made a coughing noise that sounded a lot like  _ Quidditch bleachers, _ and Albus shouted, “James!”

James held up his hands. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding. But not about you leaving. You do have to do that.”

“Why can’t I stay here for the conversation?” Albus asked. He looked at Scorpius. “I can stay, right?”

“If you want to,” Scorpius said. 

“No, he can’t,” James said firmly. “You’re being ridiculous.” 

Albus followed James reluctantly out of the hospital room, throwing a few sulky glances at Scorpius that he had tried to appease with kisses before realizing that nothing was going to make Albus stop sulking other than this conversation being over. It was disorienting with Albus gone, like his presence had tied Scorpius back to some sense of normalcy after six horribly traumatic months. Now that he was alone, he felt so disoriented and unlike himself. Albus had made it so easy for Scorpius to feel connected to the person he’d been before the possession or the alternate timeline, but Scorpius really wasn’t that person anymore. Scorpius, for the first time, didn’t really feel like much of a person at all anymore. 

He had unraveled pretty far by the time that someone knocked on his door just a few minutes later. Scorpius shouted, “Come in,” even though absolutely no part of him was prepared to see Rose on his own right now.

He was deeply relieved when the door opened and Albus’s mum stepped inside. Scorpius stared up at her with wild eyes and chest heaving, a second away from real hyperventilation, and she smiled back at him kindly. “Hi, Scorpius. How do you feel?”

He took several deep breaths and squeaked, “I’m fine!” as she crossed the room to take the seat next to his bed. “I was a bit better before.”

“It’s always worse when you’re alone, isn’t it?” Scorpius almost smiled as he was reminded of her husband’s uncomfortable attempts to connect with him. Ginny spoke to him with no such emotional clumsiness. “I always hated nighttime for the same reason. Not when I was still in the Hospital Wing, my mum wouldn’t let me do a thing for myself. I actually fooled myself into thinking I was being suffocated and wanted to be left alone. She likely slept in the exact same type of chair I’m sitting in right now until it was time to take me home. I probably could have even asked her to sleep in my room in the Burrow, but I was so desperate to pretend that I hadn’t been affected by the experience that I pushed everyone away as far as they could. It took so long before I was comfortable just being by myself again.” 

“This is my first time being alone.”

Ginny nodded understandingly. “It’s the worst. There’s a reason why we’ve allowed Al to skip all of his classes since you’ve woken up, and it isn’t just because he threw a fit whenever we suggested that he leave for a bit. In my family, even when you ask for it, you never really get the chance to be by yourself, but even with all of my brothers around, just going to the bathroom or closing my bedroom door at night made me feel so isolated that I might as well have been in the Chamber again.”

“Do you remember being in the Chamber?” Scorpius whispered.

“No, not… probably not real memories,” said Ginny. “But my mind would fill in details after the fact. I thought I could remember doing all of it. It’s pretty fascinating, psychologically. I can show the memories that I think I have in the Pensieve even though Harry can point out logical flaws in some of them.”

“Some of the memories would bleed through for me,” Scorpius admitted. “I thought I could remember seeing Iwan die in the forest, right before he took over. I knew it was weird that Iwan was in the common room and thought I could remember a flash of green light.”

“You might actually remember that. It seemed like both of your identities were bleeding through each other’s by the end.” At Scorpius’s downcast look, Ginny scooched him over and sat down next to him so she could wrap her arm around his shoulders. Scorpius opened his mouth, and Ginny said, “I do not care what happened on this bed as long as I do not know about it,” and Scorpius nodded and buried his face in her neck. 

“I remember my mum, too,” Scorpius whispered. “I thought she was there.”

“That was real,” said Ginny. “In a way.”

“Yeah, I heard about what Teddy did.”

“Scorpius, sweetheart, I am so sorry that you were left to deal with all of this by yourself. I understand why you didn’t feel comfortable reaching out to me, but I hope you know in the future that we’re never going to blame you for something so completely out of your control. When your father said that you’d bought a Remembrall to help, my heart absolutely broke. I just knew that I should have been there, and I’m so sorry.”

“Okay, it’s okay. I personally am just hoping that there is no ‘in the future’. It’s not just going to come back out of nowhere, is it?”

“No, no, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have phrased it like that. It’s over, and if, in the future, you face anything else that scares you, you will have a united Potter front to support you.”

“And when did it all feel over for you?” Scorpius asked quietly.

Ginny considered her answer for a long time. “I was so young when it happened that… I remember at the end of my third year, when Harry told everyone that Voldemort was back, just thinking, ‘He was never really gone in the first place’. He didn’t have his body back yet, but he’d already found two other host bodies before. I think that when I knew, for sure, after the war that he was dead, I got some closure, but to me, I never thought of him as the Dark Lord. I thought of him as this insidious awful little parasite just clinging to life above all else, and it’s been nearly twenty years since Harry killed him, but when James told me that Voldemort was back I just thought…“

“He was never really gone in the first place,” Scorpius finished for her. “He was, though. If we hadn’t changed time—“

“He has a daughter, Scorpius. A daughter that none of us knew about, and she was not going to give up just because she couldn’t convince you and Al to go back in time with her. I don’t mean to belittle you two as wizards, but imagine if she had started planning her father’s return by liberating Azkaban or by uniting the dementors and the giants and all the other monsters that worked for her dad. Imagine if she’d actually used the time turner to try to save her father or kill Harry.”

“But the prophecy said that it had to be me and Albus.”

“The thing about prophecies, though, and Hermione can explain this much better than me, is that they’re all kind of bullshit. Most of them are self-fulfilling at best. If Voldemort had never heard Harry’s prophecy, he wouldn’t have marked him as his equal. If Delphini had never heard your prophecy, she probably would have done something rational with the time turner like stop her father from rebuilding his body with Harry’s blood or just kill Harry herself. Instead, she followed some random directions without even looking into where the prophecy came from.”

“And where did the prophecy come from?”

“Our classmate Lavender Brown turned it in as a thesis when she was trying to become a licensed seer,” Ginny said dryly. “I know Lavender very well, and she is not a seer. Brave, lovely woman, but not psychic. She did, however, learn a great deal from Sybil Trelawney on how to be as dramatic and attention-seeking as possible. She had at least ten other prophecies written about the Dark Lord’s return and ten more that directly contradicted her first ten. I reached out to ask her about it just a few weeks ago, and she wanted to know if I thought the use of ‘disarm’ was too pedestrian.”

Scorpius covered his mouth and looked at Ginny in shock, and she smiled back at him in shared amusement. A tiny snicker escaped, then Ginny started laughing, and soon they were both roaring with laughter. Scorpius was still gasping for deeply cathartic breaths when Rose rapped on the door with her knuckles and fixed them both with a deadpan glare. 

“Hello, aunt Ginny,” said Rose. “Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all, Rose, just keeping him company.” Ginny kissed the top of his head and stood up. “I’ll check in on you again soon, okay, Scorpius? You should be out of the Hospital Wing in a few days anyway.”

“Okay, thank you, Mrs. Potter!” Scorpius said eagerly. He blew out a long breath once the door was closed then smiled weakly at Rose. “Hello.”

Rose glared at him for a second then clenched her fists as if resisting the urge to hit him and stamped her foot petulantly. “I cannot believe you wouldn’t tell me that you were being possessed by Voldemort! It was half a year! I am so mad at you I can barely find the words.”

“You’ve found quite a lot of good words already,” said Scorpius weakly. “It’s not really the kind of thing that comes up naturally.”

“Things don’t need to come up naturally when you’re dating someone! You could have interrupted me mid-conversation and said, ‘Hey, Rose, I haven’t told anyone about this yet, but I’m losing time and think I might be possessed.’ How hard would that have been?”

Scorpius froze. It would not have been hard, and he knew that for a fact because he had said basically that exact sentence to Albus at the first chance he got. “I just didn’t know what good it would do,” he muttered.

“‘What good it would do’? Maybe I could have helped! My mum found the solution to what happened to you, by the way, and my dad was the person who destroyed the locket in our reality. I don’t see why you think that only the Potters could possibly understand what you were going through.”

“That’s not what I think!”

“I used to think you were obsessed with Albus because he was your first friend, but now I think you’re just obsessed with the whole Potter family, and I bet you’re so happy that you got possessed and you died so that now you can connect with Ginny and Harry more!” She paused and took a deep breath. “Excuse me. I let my anger run away with me. It was very frustrating scheduling time to see you around my cousin. I obviously understand that you did not want to get possessed or to die. I’m sorry.”

Scorpius looked at her in utter bafflement, suddenly realizing that he was watching a real-time war between his lovely, brilliant Rose who cared so much about what happened to him even if they had broken up and the Rose Granger-Weasley who considered Albus to be her biggest rival in terms of their family unit and had always been so much better than Albus at anything she had tried to do. “That’s fine, Rose, I… I did not handle this situation well at all.”

“No, you did not,” she said stiffly before taking the seat that Ginny had left open next to his bed. “I didn’t even know what was happening to you,” she whispered, sounding like she was about to cry. “James saw Fred and Art on the way to Professor Longbottom’s office, so they told me something was happening with you, and Albus, and Voldemort in the Slytherin common room, but he didn’t have time to give them any more information other than that. I was lucky I knew that much. All the houses got locked down with no information whatsoever. Lily was beside herself, not knowing what was going on down there or who would be the next person to step through the portrait hole. Her whole family was down there, and no one told her anything!”

“I’m so sorry that Lily had to go through that,” Scorpius whispered. He’d like to hug her because he feared that she really would start crying, but she stayed relatively composed for the entire conversation.

“After an hour, maybe two, Professor Longbottom came by to tell us that there was nothing to worry about. We asked privately if we could see our parents, but no! Lily’s dad had to go to St. Mungo’s because he got in a fight with Fenrir Greyback — really bad name to drop without offering more information, by the way, and my dad was busy with the DMLE while my mum was doing research at the Ministry to save your life! And that’s all we got. I tried to talk to your dad during Potions on Monday, and he said I should visit you in the Hospital Wing, except I couldn’t because Albus never left the bloody room other than to attend the few classes where the professors absolutely insisted he come to class. He’s skipped almost a month of school! No one cares! I’ve been the one bringing him his schoolwork and notes because no one else in our year likes him enough to do it, and I still never got the chance to see you! It’s all so fucking unfair!”

Scorpius was silent as he took this in then gushed, “I am so sorry, Rose. I would have loved if you visited me. I mean, I wouldn’t have known, because I was in a coma, but I am really sorry that you did all that to see me and then didn’t get to. That wasn’t really Albus’s decision to make.”

Rose sniffed and crossed her arms. “I didn’t do it just to get to see you. My parents told me it would be a nice thing to do to support my cousin.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to do any of it. Albus probably didn’t use the notes anyway.”

Rose snorted. “I feel like I had to schedule a time with James just to talk to you. I told you he was possessive! I was never like this. We’re still friends, aren’t we?”

“I — yes, if you want to be my friend, I would really love to be your friend!” Scorpius said quickly. “I didn’t realize you wanted to be my friend.”

“Well, I didn’t, but then you fought Voldemort and almost died then actually died, and now I feel like all of my arguments against you seem kind of childish!”

“They’re not childish,” Scorpius assured her. “They’re really some of the most valid reasons I’ve ever heard.”

Rose pouted but tried to hide it with a glare. “Like because you cheated on me with my cousin?”

“Yes, because I did that,” Scorpius agreed solemnly. All of his justifications for why what he had done didn’t count as cheating seemed very stupid and offensive in the face of a person’s actual feelings. “I’m so sorry.”

“You should be,” she said pridefully. “You are very lucky I want to talk to you at all or ever wanted to date you in the first place.”

“I am, yes!”

“Okay, so I’ll just sit here until Albus gets back so you can explain to him your plan for balancing me as a friend, shall I?”

Scorpius almost laughed then caught sight of the snide, challenging look on her face and actually started laughing. “Okay, Rose, if that’s what you want.”

“And you will continue doing my Potions essays for me every Wednesday evening.”

“Will you still do my Transfiguration?”

“I will sit there and give you helpful tips and advice,” Rose said haughtily.

“Wow, thank you. I’m sure they’ll be very useful. Can I invite Albus?”

“Not if you want helpful tips and advice.”

Scorpius laughed loudly, and Rose smiled at him reluctantly. It was, he could recognize, equally an olive branch and a stunt to annoy Albus, and Scorpius had no problem with either although he was hoping that Albus would take this opportunity to prove him right and not be visibly jealous or possessive around Rose. Although he had never had any siblings or even cousins other than Alwin and Matilda, he got the impression that Rose and Albus were both much more terrible to each other when they were alone and that, hopefully, they wouldn’t take any lasting offense to the terrible things they said or did to one another.

Albus was dismayed to see Rose laughing with Scorpius when he returned to the room. He stood in the doorway and glared at her before stomping across the room and pushing Scorpius to the side so that he could join him on the bed, then looking more irritated as he realized that he’d pushed Scorpius closer to Rose. Rose scoffed and rolled her eyes, which made Albus tense up until Scorpius kissed his cheek and whispered, “How was your walk?”

Albus huffed. “It was fine. Stuart, Ezra and Emmanuel are going to come by later. What is she still doing here?”

“We were planning our next study date for Wednesday,” Rose said goadingly.

Albus narrowed his eyes, and Scorpius explained, “We are going to continue writing our Potions and Transfiguration essays together on Wednesdays because it is a good way to stay friends without actually needing to talk to one another.”

Rose laughed sharply then caught herself and said, “Rude. You’re very good at this.”

Scorpius understood what she meant when he glanced at Albus, who already seemed relieved and slightly smug about being able to rub his relationship safely in his cousin’s face. He smiled at his cousin and said, “Well, Rose, I mean, if you want to—“

“I don’t, Al, thank you for offering.” She hopped up and patted Scorpius’s shoulder. “Glad you’re alive. Make good choices. Don’t let Albus complain or guilt you into too much because he’ll settle for anything. Bye, Al!”

“What the fuck, Rose?” he called after her as she ran out of the room and shut the door quickly behind her. He scowled at Scorpius. “Did you have a nice conversation then?”

Rather than giving Albus all the details and allowing him to nitpick until he could find something to be anxious about, Scorpius grabbed his face and kissed him. Albus responded eagerly, apparently glad to be given an out from a conversation he had started but didn’t actually want to have, and tried to guide Scorpius on top of him without ever needing to say or ask for what he wanted. When Scorpius had him on his back with his arms pinned over his head again and Albus flashed him a delighted smile like this was what he’d been aiming for all along even though he could have just told him that at the very beginning, Scorpius burst out laughing while Albus looked increasingly grumpier and more irritated. 

Scorpius discovered that his new favorite thing to do was watch the way Albus’s walls would fall away as he got more swept away, the way his scowls and general sulkiness would turn into expressions of unabashed ecstasy or uninhibited moans, and then paying attention to how long Albus could go after an orgasm without finding something to be upset about. Scorpius really wished he could share these thoughts with Albus, because he thought they were endlessly endearing and were part of why he loved him so much, but Albus would think that Scorpius was making fun of him. Which, of course, he was, but mutual teasing was an important part of a good relationship.

Towards the end of the evening, Scorpius started helping Albus with their missed classwork; although Albus technically should have missed three weeks more than Scorpius, Scorpius read ahead for pleasure in all of their courses and hadn’t actually missed very much besides the joy of going to class. He had his arm wrapped around Albus’s shoulders and was trying to illustrate a famous goblin battle on a map in his textbook when the door to the room was thrown open without a knock. Both Albus and Scorpius jumped in alarm, and Ezra laughed at them for their very reasonable wariness. 

“Scorpius!” shouted Stuart. “You’re alive!”

“And you’re not Voldemort,” Emmanuel added. “Huge improvement.”

He could barely focus on Stuart and Emmanuel’s greetings because Ezra had sat down on the side of the bed and kissed him directly on the lips. When Scorpius recoiled in shock, Ezra leaned across him to kiss Albus, and Scorpius thought he even saw him slip a little tongue into his mouth, then it was over and Ezra sat back, beaming at the two of them. “I’m so glad you’re both alright.”

“Er,” said Scorpius, looking at Albus for an explanation about what had just happened. 

Albus shrugged. “Thank you, Ezra?”

Ezra smiled and made some kind of movement like he was about to lean towards Albus again, and Scorpius meant to just push his chest back but ended up shoving him off the bed while Albus covered his mouth and giggled uncontrollably. Stuart pulled Ezra up helpfully and said, “You probably could have seen that coming, mate.”

“Excuse me for cherishing their love and wanting to experience it for myself,” said Ezra. He sat further down the bed, by Scorpius’s feet, and took one of each of their hands. Scorpius and Albus exchanged a look of mutual confusion. “Scorpius Malfoy, Albus Potter, your love saved many lives, but most importantly, it saved mine. I will never forget what Albus did for me and am enthusiastically awaiting the day when your dull, monogamous relationship is in a rut and you invite me to have a threesome with you. Hopefully in our early to mid-20s while you’re both still hot.” He squeezed their hands and said, in a choked up voice as if this was the most sentimental part of all, “But judging by your dads, you’ll both still be hot for a really long time.”

Scorpius and Albus were at a loss for words until Stuart said, “Believe it or not, he rehearsed that speech several times.”

“In the second version, a tear ran down his cheek while he talked about how hot he thinks your dads are,” Emmanuel added. “It was one of the most revolting things I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

Scorpius pulled his hand away, and Albus said, “Er, thanks, Ezra,” before doing the same.

Ezra beamed at him. “No problem, Albus. Thank you!”

“We’re probably going to pass on—“

Ezra held a finger up to Scorpius’s mouth. “No. Don’t answer now. Think about it.”

“Please don’t touch any part of my body again,” Scorpius told him.

Ezra jumped up respectfully and said, “Right you are. Albus, same rules?”

“Er, yes. Thank you for checking.”

“Wouldn’t want to make either of you uncomfortable,” Ezra said easily, pulling a seat over to sit down next to Stuart. “Scorpius, how does it feel to be alive?”

“About the same as being alive did before, really.”

“And how often were you Voldemort?” Stuart asked. “So you woke up as Voldemort in our dorm every single night? And you just let Ezra live? Bad form.”

“Did Rose have sex with Voldemort?” added Emmanuel. “Like he never just flickered in there and took over?”

“Did Voldemort see everything you did even if he was letting you be in control?” Stuart continued. “We are, of course, still referring specifically to —“

“Do you have any idea how repulsive you two have to be for Ezra to be the least gross one of all of you?” Albus asked loudly. “Is this all you’ve been talking about in the dorm without us?”

“Exclusively,” said Stuart. “Except Ezra, who mostly just theorizes a lot about your theoretical sex life.”

“Thank you, Ezra,” said Albus. “That’s very mature of you.”

Ezra winked at him. “No problem at all, Albus. I like to be above the pack. And incidentally, I would love to be above — ”

“Don’t ruin it,” Albus said sharply. “You were doing well for a few seconds.”

“I’ll do whatever you tell me to, Albus Potter,” Ezra stage-whispered, and there was a pretty substantial role reversal as Albus burst out laughing while Scorpius looked irritated and grumpy. Albus actually buried his face in Scorpius’s armpit as he shook with laughter, allowing Scorpius to glare witheringly at Ezra, who was likely not threatened after facing Lord Voldemort and the last remaining Death Eaters.

“I’m not going to say I’m surprised about the two of you,” began Stuart. “I’m really, really not, but I thought Ezra said Albus liked some girl named Delphi. I didn’t realize he meant Delphini Voldemort.”

Albus pulled back to look at Scorpius then smile widely. It took Scorpius a second to grin back at him, then he glanced at Stuart and informed him, “‘Voldemort’ isn’t a last name.”

“Her name was Delphini Riddle,” Albus added.

“What do you think his first name would’ve been? ‘Lord’?”

“‘Lord Tom Voldemort’?” Albus asked.

“Ridiculous,” spat Scorpius. “Lord Tom Voldemort.”

“Riddle-culous,” confirmed Albus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now my plot has ended.
> 
> Thank you very much to everyone who liked or subscribed! I can guarantee that there will be at least one if not a collection of smutty or fluffy companion fics involving the characters from this universe as per your requests and my various inclinations. If you would like to reach out to request any specific oneshots you'd like to see or idk just to talk Harry Potter, then I am on reddit at u/fillerusername4.


	19. Epilogue (October 2020)

Hogwarts felt lonely and empty now that Scorpius and the rest of his class had graduated. It was difficult to remember what life was like in the eleven years in which he taught at Hogwarts before Scorpius had met Albus and the two of them began to wreak devastation wherever they went. It wasn’t as if Draco didn’t see more than enough of the two of them, who had been crashing at Malfoy Manor because one of them had convinced the other that it was the respectful thing to do if they weren’t going to get paying jobs right out of school. Draco wanted to explain that he would gladly pay for them to go live elsewhere, but they had talked themselves into agreeing that this was a good idea. 

They had created a certain Hogwarts community that included Draco which he hadn’t experienced before and wouldn’t experience without them. With Albus came his father, Neville, and really the majority of the Wizarding World, and the fact that Albus was very lucky to have Scorpius in his life convinced that community to open itself up to the Malfoys. He used to have people barging into his office at all hours of the day. Now he was actually able to sit and grade a pile of papers in total peace and silence.

The moment he had that thought, of course, someone knocked on his door and threw it open without waiting for permission. Draco glanced up, unsure of whom he would be expecting and completely shocked to see a tall, mildly familiar man with impeccable bone structure, a cheeky smile and red-brown curls, probably five or so years younger than Draco, leaning in the doorway. Draco froze with his quill hovering over the parchment and gave him a puzzled look.

He grinned as if untroubled by the fact that Draco had clearly forgotten him. “Professor Malfoy!”

“Yes?” Draco asked uncertainly. “Are you a parent? You need to file a meeting request.”

“A parent!” he repeated in mock offense. He looked down at himself and observed, “Oh, wow, I’m old enough to be a Hogwarts parent, aren’t I?”

“Yes, easily. Do I — Leif?”

Leif Scamander beamed at Draco. “I knew you’d remember! I was in your first NEWTs class.”

“I know,” said Draco. “To what do I owe the… visit?”

Leif beckoned a stool over with a flick of his wand and sat down opposite Draco. “Well, interestingly enough, Care of Magical Creatures is looking for a professor for next year.”

Draco dropped his quill and croaked, trying to suppress his excitement, “Hagrid is leaving?” He struggled to seem ambivalent for only a moment then gave up, looked at the ceiling, and whispered, “Thank Merlin.”

“Well, for a prolonged sabbatical, assuming they can find a good substitute to fill his role.” Leif lounged on a backless stool like no one in the history of laboratory stools had ever accomplished. Draco could believe that stool companies would hire him as a model and wished he could stop thinking of the word ‘stool’.

“Okay, you can do that. What can we do to get you this position? Your grandfather wrote the bloody textbook! Surely you must be qualified. Right? You’ve seen magical creatures!”

Leif’s smile spread across his face in increasing disbelief. “I — yes, I’ve seen magical creatures. I would love to fill Hagrid’s role and thought perhaps you could provide a recommendation for me? I’m here to meet with Professor McGonagall in thirty minutes.”

“Recommendation, yes, certainly. What would you have me say about you?”

Leif faltered. “Probably nice things you remember about me from sixth or seventh year.”

Draco was about to point out that, if they wanted to make absolutely sure that Leif would take Hagrid’s job, he would need Leif to be a little more direct than that before realizing that he did have quite a lot of nice things to say about him as a student. He was clever, connected well with the other students, kind to everyone, keen to come up with difficult solutions that no one else considered, and in general loved a challenge. He’d be an excellent professor. He had to work here and take Hagrid’s job. He had to. Draco nodded. “I can say nice things.”

“I’m delighted to hear that.”

“You’ve got to think if your grandfather’s face is on the back of the textbook, you’re pretty set for the job, aren’t you?”

Leif paused. “Excuse me, but I do not believe my grandfather’s face is on the back of the textbook. From what I know of him, that does not sound like his style.”

“Oh! Yes. You know what? I believe one of my friends stuck a picture of his face to the back of my book with a permanent sticking charm. Just as a joke. Right.” Draco remembered now that Pansy had stuck Newt Scamander’s face to the back of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them after Draco had seen his picture smiling in an old Prophet and stared at it for a minute solid.

“That’s a very funny joke,” Leif said knowingly. “So I’ve got to go meet with McGonagall, but I thought maybe we could meet up afterwards to decide what glowing things you’re going to say about me?”

“Hm, I seem to remember only a minute ago, you told me to come up with it myself.”

“I’ll jog your memory,” promised Leif, and Draco felt his face turn bright red although he had no memories to be jogged. Except the memories of Leif being an incredible student, that is, which he already had. Of course they were talking about memories of Leif being an incredible student. There was nothing else to talk about.

“I have — I have something I need to do tonight unfortunately. I would love for you to tell me what you’re good at — no, wait, I mean — what positions you’re — good at for the position — I’ll tell her to give you the job, okay?”

Leif smiled at him presumptuously. “Okay, tonight doesn’t work. How’s this weekend for you?”

“My son has a thing on Saturday that I’ve already promised to go to,” Draco said apologetically, cursing Scorpius and all of his stupid little Potter clan friends.

“Oh! What thing? I like things.”

“It would be — it would be intrusive, unfortunately. It’s my son’s boyfriend’s brother’s wedding to his godsibling, so… I’m not going to bring a +1.”

Leif actually laughed. “Oh, the Lupin-Potter wedding, yeah, I was invited to that. My sister-in-law is his little sister’s godmother or namesake or both or something; there are too many Weasleys to keep track of. So many, honestly. It’s absurd. As if I’m expected to know all those little gingers that share absolutely no blood with me. Okay, how’s this: You don’t bring a +1 and be intrusive, and I won’t bring a +1 and be intrusive. And we’ll both be… non-intrusive together. The perfect guests.”

Draco gaped at him. “Yes, that… that works. That seems impossible to argue with, really.”

“I thought so,” agreed Leif. “And because we’re being so non-intrusive, I think I’ve earned the right to ask them to seat us next to each other, don’t you?”

Draco took a deep breath. “I believe that that balances out, yes.”

“Wonderful, it’s a non-intrusive date then. And what would you say if I asked you if you wanted to meet up beforehand to smoke with me?”

“I’d say… I’m an adult man?”

Leif stood up and grinned at him. “I’m an adult man too, Draco.”

“Oh,” said Draco, bright red and hoping he was about to spontaneously combust.

Leif opened the door and confirmed, “So we’ll meet at that arboretum a mile off from the venue? The Switch Arboretum,” before heading off to his interview. 

After a safe period of time, Draco let out a loud, nonverbal scream and practically ran to his Floo. He rolled out of Blaise’s fireplace already recounting the story and had recounted it in a jumble of frantic words three times by the time the gang (Draco, Blaise, Millicent, and Marcus) had all assembled. After the third description, Millicent raised her hands and asked, “Can we not just watch it in the Pensieve?”

“No, that’s for Draco,” snapped Blaise. “No matter how much he’s stretching the truth, this… sounds like what he thinks it sounds like.”

“Does he look like his grandfather?” Millicent asked eagerly. “Tell me he looks like his grandfather.”

“Just like him! And we all know that his grandfather’s face is the only redeeming part of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, the textbook that we used for Care of Magical Creatures!”

“Yeah, his grandfather’s face could redeem any textbook, even a boring one distracting us from the good classes. Even — we’re talking even the same smile?”

“Exactly the same smile,” Draco assured them. “And I think he’s like…” he shimmied his shoulders a little bit and continued, “I think he’s like the scoundrel brother, but you didn’t hear it from me.”

Marcus roared with laughter, more at the shimmy than the content, and Blaise repeated, with a look of total affection, “The scoundrel brother.”

“I think this job is him sort of settling down, you know? Like, he’s already experienced enough, and now he’s down to be a teacher and be boring and ordinary.” Draco shimmied again to illustrate his point.

“He’s explored the world, and now he wants to fuck his teacher,” said Marcus. “Incredibly valid.”

“It isn’t creepy, is it?” Draco whispered. “I did the calculations. He can’t be more than six years younger than me.”

“I think it’s fine,” said Millicent. “So he’s 34 and you’re 40? No one can complain with that. Luna Lovegood married his older brother!”

“And do we think I should warn Scorpius before the evening?”

“Sure,” said Blaise. “If you want Albus Potter to unnecessarily sexualize him and Scorpius to call him ‘dad’ when he first meets him.”

“Sexualize him?” Draco repeated, ignoring the more alarming part of that uncannily accurate prediction.

“Look,” said Millicent. “I’m as gay as Draco, and I can tell you that if he looks like Newt Scamander, everyone in that wedding with be sexualizing him.”

“Newt Scamander,” repeated Marcus appreciatively, and the two Flints, neither of whom were officially attracted to men, fist-bumped. 

“Okay, so I will warn Scorpius ahead of time? That feels right. I’ve literally never dated. He should know.”

“And when he says ‘never’, he means ‘in his life’, not ‘since Astoria died’,” Millicent whispered to Marcus, who nodded understandingly.

“Warn everyone,” advised Marcus. “Or they will move in on little Scamander.”

“Please… can you all please stop sexualizing him?” Draco asked. “I feel like that’s for me to do.”

Blaise beamed at him. “You actually like him!”

“Yes, of course! He’s… he’s funny, clever, and very, very attractive, but I want to be the only person who sees that even though it’s so obvious!”

Millicent covered her mouth and, for the first time, looked rather moved. “You really, really like him, Draco! I remember when I saw Gemma again, I had the exact same thought.”

“Excuse me,” said Draco. “Stuart Bletchley’s mother? From Scorpius’s year? Our prefect?”

“Yes, don’t worry. Miles knows. Stuart doesn’t, but he’s an adult, right? Yeah.”

“Sure, whatever. Good for you. I’m going to… I’ll go warn Scorpius, shall I?”

Blaise, still smiling at him, gestured dramatically at the Floo powder and said, “Go prematurely warn your son that you have tentative plans to meet up at an acquaintance’s wedding with a very sexy 34-year-old who isn’t your date.”

“Blaise, don’t,” said Millicent. “Draco, if you are ready to start dating, Rolf or no Rolf — sorry, Leif or no Leif, I’m so sorry, none of us have ever met him — then you should tell your son.”

Draco nodded and, before anyone could talk him out of it or make him feel like he was counting all his chickens before they hatched, grabbed the Floo powder and shouted, “Malfoy Manor.”

He walked through it, calling Scorpius’s and occasionally Albus’s names, before deciding that the house was empty. There was only one place where the two of them would be together, and Draco really could have waited for them to come home but wanted to act while he still had the adrenaline pulsing, so he grabbed more Floo powder and shouted, “Ginny and Harry Potter’s house!”

The kitchen of the Potters’ house was lit with the golden rays of sunlight characteristic of the early morning and inappropriate for this time of day. He was both dismissive of and deeply impressed by the fact that their kitchen must be charmed to be as cozy as possible. Albus was leaning against a counter and drinking from a cup of tea, or perhaps coffee given his odd tastes, with his mother. Draco paused and surveyed the two of them before asking, “So the Sessions are still going on then?”

Albus rolled his eyes dramatically. “They’re onto the Half-Blood Prince Sessions now, yes. So bloody annoying. Also, just call it Sixth Year Sessions, right? So pretentious.”

“I think it’s sweet,” said Ginny. “People have been asking Harry to tell his story for a while. It’s wonderful that he trusts Scorpius enough to record it for him. And Scorpius claims that he doesn’t want to title it by year because Harry didn’t actually go to Hogwarts during what would have been his seventh year.”

“He doesn’t trust Scorpius more than anyone else. He just feels guilty for being so awful when we were students and wants to help to fulfill his childhood dream,” said Albus.

“He does trust Scorpius!” objected Ginny. “Albus, I don’t think you understand the faith that it takes for your father to show someone through his Pensieve. No other writer could get that from him, and yes, it’s partially guilt, but he needs that kind of motivation, and it’s also because Scorpius is brilliant, a wonderful writer, and would never betray your father’s story.”

“Fair enough,” said Albus. “I still don’t like it. Scorpius cried for three days after seeing Sirius Black fall beyond the veil, and honestly, I question his intentions behind the emotions.”

“Harry wasn’t quite right after watching that again either,” Ginny admitted reluctantly. “But it will be good for his emotional development in the long run to properly process these traumatic events.”

“You think you’re suffering?” asked Draco. “Read his draft of your dad’s first year. I sound like an absolute cunt.”

“Actually, Draco, out of fairness for your relationship with Scorpius — “

“That I created him? That’s the relationship you’re referring to?”

“Yes, out of respect for that relationship, he is not including any dialogue from you that isn’t explicitly ripped from Harry’s Pensieve.”

Draco glared at her. “Thank you for rubbing it in, Ginny. I feel very relieved that my son is only including details from our sixth year that I actually did.”

Albus shrugged. “Maybe you should have done fewer shitty things?” 

“Thank you, Albus, for your helpful advice. One day, you will have a son ghostwriting your childhood rival’s autobiography, and he’ll say, ‘Just don’t go back in time’, and you can propose how to fix that.”

Albus grinned at him. “Probably by going back in time. And I didn’t have a rival. Just the enmity of the entire school.” He paused and said, “Rose, maybe, I guess. But I won that one in the end, didn’t I?”

“Nicely deflected, Albus,” sneered Draco. “I love the empathy.”

Ginny cleared her throat. “Draco, why are you here? Not that you aren’t welcome, but I haven’t seen you show up for the Harry Potter Sessions since you burst in showing a very, very faint scar on your arm and ranting about a Hippogriff.”

“You mean a very dangerous beast that Hagrid was unqualified to own? He should have been sacked for that. Hogwarts is so lucky to have a qualified Care of Magical Creatures professor for once. Merlin knows it hasn’t had one since Grubblyplank.”

Draco froze the moment he blurted it out, and Ginny held out a hand needlessly to stop him. “Hagrid is retiring?”

“He’s going on… sabbatical, possibly. Maybe permanently.”

“And who is this qualified replacement if not Grubblyplank?” Ginny asked icily. “Hagrid was a wonderful teacher.”

“Mum, honestly, he’d already taught for two decades by the time he taught me, and he was still not yet qualified to be a teacher. So who’s the replacement?”

Draco paused then admitted, “Leif Scamander.”

Ginny seemed mildly confused, but it only took a second for a gigantic smile to blossom over Albus’s face. He held up a finger to stop Draco when, once again, he had no intention of speaking. “You mean uncle Rolf’s hot, gay brother? Can I go back to Hogwarts?”

“No, you can’t,” Draco snapped.

“And… How long has it been confirmed that Leif is working at Hogwarts?” Albus asked teasingly, almost certainly aware of where this would be going.

Draco straightened his posture, and Albus almost laughed at him. “He came by my office to ask for a recommendation.”

“When?”

“Earlier today,” Draco admitted.

“So does he have the job?” Albus teased. “Or are you just hoping he has the job?”

“Albus, I could destroy your relationship with one word.”

“Sure,” said Albus. “So you didn’t come here to tell Scorpius that Hogwarts has replaced Hagrid? I’m sure he’ll really care. He talked about Hagrid occasionally! Sometimes.”

“Oh,” said Ginny, catching onto Albus’s deeply unsubtle hints. “Oh! That’s wonderful. He is a very, very handsome man, Draco.”

“Very handsome,” Albus agreed mockingly.

“You are all seeing something that isn’t there,” snapped Draco. “I came here to talk to Scorpius.”

“About what?” Scorpius asked loudly as he and a rather grim Harry Potter joined them in the kitchen. “Hi, dad. Did you ever think to brew more felix felicis in case of a war? Seems like an obvious move.”

“I — yes, I did do that, actually. After your fourth year. But it’s a dangerous potion.”

“So I've heard,” said Scorpius. He looked to Albus. “What are we all here to talk about?”

“I’m not here to talk about anything. I’m here to make sure a death from thirty years ago doesn’t destroy your world again. Your dad has something to talk about. I think Hogwarts might potentially be hiring a new professor who he might write a recommendation for.” Albus smirked at Draco, who glared back in a way that he hoped communicated his imminent death and eviction.

“Are you quitting?” Scorpius asked.

“They’re replacing Hagrid, right?” Harry rasped in a tired voice. “He’s going to explore Africa or whatever.”

“Big continent,” observed Albus into his coffee. “Several years worth of continent, for sure.”

“Oh,” said Scorpius politely. Albus struggled valiantly not to laugh and shot Draco a significant look. “Well, I like to know what’s going on, so that’s interesting. Thank you.”

“They’re replacing him with Leif Scamander, right?” Harry asked. “I’m writing him a recommendation. I didn’t overlap with him as a student, but Rolf asked me if I would.”

Albus choked on his coffee, and Ginny had to whack him on the back with a poorly suppressed smile on her face. Albus sputtered and repeated, “My dad’s writing him a recommendation,” as if Draco hadn’t heard.

Scorpius looked taken aback then smiled slyly and shot a look at Albus. “Rolf’s brother?”

“I know, right?” Albus whispered.

“Just our luck,” muttered Scorpius.

“We graduated at the wrong time,” observed Albus dolefully.

“Can you not?” Draco mouthed at Albus, who seemed very pleased with himself.

Ginny rolled her eyes and said, “Okay, sorry. I am gathering that Draco is going on a date with Leif? I’m sorry to break the news for you, but I’m afraid that my son might flirt with him at the wedding if we don’t make it clear.”

“You have a date with Leif?” Scorpius cried.

“Phwoar,” added Albus helpfully, then once again hid his face in his coffee as Draco glared at him.

“I can deal with this,” said Scorpius. “I’ve already lived through seven years of my housemates making comments about my first dad.”

“Excuse me, which comments?” Draco asked innocently.

“You know which comments,” Harry snapped. “We all get comments.”

“My response would have been, ‘First dad’?” added Ginny.

“Because Leif is going to be my second dad,” said Scorpius with utmost earnesty.

“Your second, model-hot dad,” said Albus. “No, sorry, your second dad, who is model-hot. Don’t want to misplace the adjective. He’ll have his first dad and also his model-hot dad.”

“I have had just about enough of you, Albus Potter,” said Draco. “He’ll have no dads. No new dads.”

“Okay, sorry, why are you here, Mr. Malfoy?” asked Albus.

“Because… I found a new time turner,” Draco said without much thought.

Albus’s smile became even more mocking. Even Ginny lost her composure and made a disbelieving noise, and Albus shot her a smile and said, “Right?”

“Oh,” said Scorpius. “That’s really dangerous.”

“Yes,” agreed Draco. “It is. So I’m going to go destroy it.”

“Let me know if you need any help,” called Albus as he grabbed a handful of Floo powder. “Advice, suggestions, tips, whatever.”

_ “Reducto _ works well,” said Scorpius, clearly very confused.

“I can suggest other spells,” said Albus with the same unwavering smirk, and Draco had to fight the urge to tell him that he was evicted from Malfoy Manor. Ginny shot him a sympathetic look, and Harry seemed too exhausted to really care before Draco stepped into the fire and returned to his gigantic, empty home.

*

“I cannot believe that we got Rubeus Hagrid and now the next generation of budding queer kids are going to get  _ that,” _ Albus spat enviously. He and Scorpius were lurking in the corner of the banquet hall and staring at Scorpius’s dad and Leif Scamander with unabashed interest. “He could make blast-ended skrewts sexy. No, even better: He’d probably take them off the curriculum because Hagrid bloody invented them, and they’re horrible.”

“I’m going to ask you a question, Albus, and I want you to answer it honestly: Does my dad seem high to you?”

Albus snorted. “Pink eyes, incessant giggling — yes, I would say that yes, he does. Your dad is really handling his midlife crisis with panache. Leif fucking Scamander, who saw it coming? I bet he’s going to buy himself a really, really nice broom.”

“He’s only forty! This is a third-life crisis at worst.” Scorpius rubbed his jaw. “I don’t know how I feel about this.”

“Why, because your dad is flirting with the loveliest man I’ve ever seen?” A familiar voice asked from behind them, and someone threw their arms around both of their shoulders. Scorpius jumped about a foot in the air before he looked at Ezra Tobbins in a well-fitted muggle suit. 

Albus groaned, and Scorpius demanded, “Who invited you?”

“Okay, be more excited to see me,” said Ezra. “It’s been months. And I’ll have you know that James and Teddy adore me. And also I’m Lorcan’s date, which is how I actually got the invitation.”

Albus cursed. “Why does everyone but me get to date a Scamander?”

Scorpius sputtered then deflated and muttered, “Okay, fine.”

“I thought you were dating aunt Gabrielle’s daughter,” Albus said accusingly.

“I thought you were dating Art Jordan,” added Scorpius. “They’re all here.”

Ezra looked around with great interest. “Are they? I’ll have to track them down, but nope, Lorcan was my invitation. Art is going out with Rose now as far as I know, so you two have some real competition for my top couple to have a threesome with.”

“I’m so threatened,” said Albus in a flat, sarcastic voice.

“Don’t worry, Albus. I’m just trying to make you jealous. You’d still win.”

“I need this to stop,” said Scorpius. “Why are you always — wait, did he just touch my dad?”

Ezra nodded. “Yes, he very gently brushed his elbow. You should be concerned about that.”

“Oi! You lot!” Stuart Bletchley shouted as he ran up to join them. “Are you seeing Professor Malfoy flirting with that tall, handsome cherub of a man? Woah.”

“Oh, dammit, and who invited you?” Albus asked angrily.

“That Veela girl Ezra was dating — Elodie.” Stuart nodded proudly and nudged Ezra. “Thanks for the good word, mate.”

“This is a Hufflepuff wedding!” said Scorpius. “A Hufflepuff, Potter wedding, and — oh, Merlin’s beard.”

“Guys, has Professor Malfoy been gay this whole time?” Adelaide asked loudly as she pulled Emmanuel by his hand over to join them. “How did that miss me? I flirted with him a  _ lot. _ Now I know why he never responded!”

“Yes, that was why,” said Albus. “Do I even want to ask how you two got in here? You’re dating each other!”

“We heard all of you lot were invited, so we crashed,” explained Emmanuel. “Rhiannon is here with Dominique, actually. Oi, Rhiannon! Slytherin reunion in the corner!”

Albus looked up to the ceiling for strength, and Scorpius struggled to process the presence of their entire class at a Potter wedding as Rhiannon jogged over looking rather lovely in her red dress robes. She hugged both Albus and Scorpius, who hugged her back with less reluctance than they had greeted the others. 

“It’s wonderful to see you two here!” Rhiannon gushed.

“James is my brother,” said Albus. “Of course I’m here.”

“I think she means that it’s wonderful to see you two in public at all,” amended Adelaide. “Are you enjoying leaving Malfoy Manor?”

“We leave Malfoy Manor,” snapped Albus. “Just not to hang out with any of you.”

Emmanuel smacked Scorpius’s arm. “Are you really ghostwriting Harry Potter’s memoirs? Lily just mentioned it. We were wondering why neither of you had gotten real jobs. Albus didn’t surprise us, but we thought you liked to do things with your time.”

“I don’t judge,” whispered Ezra. “We’re rich and young, right? I call it being an influencer if anyone asks. It’s a muggle thing, doesn’t really have an equivalent in this world. People send me clothes though and sometimes CBD-based skincare products.”

“Why were you talking to Lily?” Albus practically screamed.

“If I were a ghostwriter, I wouldn’t admit to it,” said Scorpius, making a mental note to explain the details of his job to Lily again. “Can you guys just keep it to yourself, please?”

“Well,” said Adelaide pragmatically. “We are Slytherins, and you are asking us not to spread a rumor, so that sounds unlikely.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever not spread a rumor before,” mused Rhiannon. “I suppose I could try, just to see what it’s like.”

“Consider it like this, Adelaide: He’s asking us to lie,” pointed out Ezra. “Very Slytherin.”

“It’s only lying if someone asks me about it first,” argued Adelaide. “Otherwise I’m just respecting Scorpius’s boundaries.”

“Lie of omission,” said Stuart.

“Just don’t tell anyone!” cried Scorpius. 

“For you, anything,” Ezra promised. “I’ll hex anyone who betrays my guy Scorpius, you hear?” 

Albus scoffed, and Scorpius muttered, “Thank you, Ezra.”

Adelaide started hitting Emmanuel repeatedly and with increasing force. “Professor Malfoy is coming this way!”

Rhiannon followed her eyes and boggled at the sight. “Oh, Merlin, look at his date. Yes, Professor Malfoy. Get it.”

“He could have been our teacher if we’d been just a few years younger,” Albus whispered.

“Alright, I’m getting a job at Hogwarts,” declared Ezra. “Albus, is your dad going to retire soon?”

“This is so sad for you two,” said Adelaide. “You were the only two students who never got to appreciate how hot some of the professors were! Your dads ruined your Hogwarts experience by being your dads.”

“Oh, wow, I hate that idea so much,” said Scorpius. “Also, Professor Spinnet?”

“Professor Longbottom,” pointed out Albus at the exact same moment. They exchanged a quick look, and Albus scowled at him. 

Scorpius raised his hands innocently and said, “Yeah, Professor Longbottom. Sure.”

“Hi, Professor Malfoy!” Ezra called loudly. He adjusted his posture very deliberately and lowered his voice before focusing on Leif. “And who might your date be?”

“Leif Scamander,” Leif said, extending a hand to Ezra, who shook his hand much slower and longer than was generally considered appropriate.

“This is Ezra, he’s here on a date with your nephew,” said Adelaide. “And I’m Adelaide.”

Ezra glared at Adelaide as if she’d blown a spot that he didn’t actually have while the Slytherins tripped over one another to introduce themselves to Leif. Finally, Albus beamed at Leif and said, “Albus Potter, hi, great to meet you, huge fan of your grandfather’s.”

“Oh, you like Care of Magical Creatures?” asked Leif politely as he shook his hand.

“It was okay,” said Albus cheerfully. He jerked his head towards Scorpius. “This is Scorpius.”

Leif smiled at him and extended a hand, and Scorpius stared at him dumbly for a moment before blurting out, “Hi, Scorpius! You’re Scorpius! No, I — I’m Scorpius. Hi, I’m Scorpius.” Scorpius could feel his cheeks burning, and his classmates were all doing poor jobs of hiding their amusement and ridicule.

“He’s Scorpius,” Albus confirmed.

“Hi, Mr. Scamander,” Scorpius muttered miserably before shaking his hand.

“Hi, Scorpius. You can call me Leif.”

“And how do you two know each other?” asked Ezra curiously. Scorpius could almost see him readjusting his running threesome list. “We’re all big fans of your grandfather, by the way. Adelaide owns every book that he ever had a picture in.”

Leif snorted loudly then collected himself and nodded with a completely straight face. “You kids are really cute. I was in sixth year when Hogwarts reopened, so I was part of Draco’s first class.”

“Draco’s, yes,” said Ezra, bobbing his head in agreement. “He’s a wonderful teacher, isn’t he, Draco? Potions was everyone’s favorite class.”

“I thought Albus liked Care of Magical Creatures,” joked Leif, and Albus covered his face with the palm of his hand in shame. “Draco was a great teacher though. I remember all of us giving him the most shit during our Amortentia lesson. Did you lot do the same thing? He’s brilliant, though.”

“That got struck from the curriculum before our time,” Albus said in a choked voice. “For that exact reason.”

“Who told you that?” Draco asked, appalled. “The curriculum changes every year for a variety of reasons. We don’t have time to do everything every year.”

“I’m sure,” said Albus, and Scorpius’s dad looked at Albus like he might have glared if he weren’t so stoned and pleased with his company for the evening.

“Were you in Slytherin?” Emmanuel asked. 

“No, I was Hufflepuff. I’ve always felt like there was a Slytherin inside me though.”

“Yeah, I bet,” muttered Ezra, who could no longer contain his giddiness and started whispering frantically with Adelaide in front of Leif and Scorpius’s dad.

Scorpius’s dad closed his eyes for a long time then opened them and announced, “I’m going to go drink. It was wonderful to see all of you. Scorpius, I’ll find you later.”

“Find us tomorrow,” said Albus charitably.

“Bye, Slytherins,” said Leif as Scorpius’s dad guided him away. “You’re all adorable. Bye, Scorpius!”

They watched as Scorpius’s dad and his date walked away. Leif reached into his pocket and flashed a baggie of what even Scorpius could identify as dried knotgrass, and Scorpius’s dad redirected their trajectory towards the exit. Everyone other than Albus and Scorpius were nodding their approval as they both left the banquet hall.

Rhiannon put a hand to her heart. “Did you see him take a special interest in Scorpius? Oh my. Wow. Dad material, right? He could turn a girl straight, couldn’t he?”

“He could turn anyone anything,” murmured Stuart. 

“I feel like someone who’s actually dad material wouldn’t smoke knotgrass in public, and Scorpius probably wouldn’t ogle at him so much,” observed Emmanuel. “But he’s something, isn’t he?”

Rose barreled into Scorpius looking rather hysterical and, visibly drunk and lacking all volume modulation, bellowed, “DID YOU SEE?”

“We saw,” said Albus. “Are you wasted, Rose?”

“Some of us,” she slurred angrily, swaying very close to him, “don’t get every night free, Albus.”

“Oh, do you usually work weekends?” sneered Albus. “Here I thought you just sat around and twiddled your thumbs until the Quidditch Cup came around.”

“Hey,” said Stuart. “It takes a year to properly plan the Quidditch Cup. We all really respect what you do, Rose.”

“Thanks, Stu. That’s sweet. The Wasps suck this year, by the way. Everyone in the Department agrees that they’re so bad they might as well just give up and take you off the bench.”

Stuart frowned. “I was complimenting you! Alternates never get any time.”

Albus rolled his eyes and leaned against Scorpius as the conversation devolved into job talk. In addition to Ezra’s “influencer” lifestyle, Rose’s position in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, and Stuart’s role as alternate seeker for the Wimbourne Wasps, Emmanuel was preparing to take over Borgin and Burke’s, Adelaide was taking frequent freelance writing jobs for Witch Weekly and other periodicals of equal trashiness, and Rhiannon was interning at St. Mungo’s where James had already moved up to a residency. Scorpius could understand why Albus hated people talking about their jobs around him and understood why he wasn’t telling anyone that he’d received several offers from the Ministry, but it didn’t do anything to help his reputation to slouch off whenever conversations became professional. 

“Do you think Ezra’s also starting at the Department of Mysteries?” Albus whispered when they were alone at the Manor later, after having fully discussed every interaction they’d seen between Leif and Scorpius’s dad (and why Scorpius’s dad hadn’t gotten home yet). “Is that why he’s making up that freeloader influencer stuff?”

Scorpius shook his head. “No, I think he genuinely just travels around and uses CBD-based facial products, which also… what potion is that? I’ve never heard of that before. He said CBD three or four times.”

“I was trying to figure that out too,” whispered Albus. “I have no idea.”

“Wait!” said Scorpius. “You said ‘starting at’! Are you ‘starting at’ the DOM?”

Albus scowled and muttered, “I mean, probably.”

“And you’re not thinking about taking it just because you want your job to be more prestigious than Rose’s?” Scorpius asked as tactfully as possible.

Albus sniffed. “I can have lots of different motivations, Scorpius.”

“Makes sense. You wouldn’t even be able to tell her you worked there anyway. She’d think you just have some Ministry desk job, and she’d give you so much shit for it.”

“First of all, I’d know. And you would know. And my parents would know. That would be enough. Second of all, I don’t think I’d actually do the desk job cover. It seems like a lot of extra work. I’d probably just continue pretending I sit at home all day. No one has questioned it at all. Like, at all. It’s a big upsetting, if I’m being honest.”

Scorpius smiled at him. “Well, I think you’d be a great Unspeakable.”

Albus frowned, once again showing his unique ability to find the bad in anything. He’d received an amazing job offer, and they wanted him to work there very badly. Scorpius was excited for him, but Albus had a difficult time allowing himself to be optimistic. “I think they just want to experiment on me because they realized I have weird Squib powers.”

Scorpius knocked his shoulder against his. “You love mysteries and weird magic that should probably be illegal if the Ministry can’t get its security problems figured out! You’ll get to be surrounded by the new generation of time turners! I think you’d have a really illustrious career until you get fired for accidentally destroying reality.”

“I’m not going to do that a second time,” Albus snapped irritably. “They want me to sign a lot of waivers, actually. I am what they call a ‘high-risk hire’ or ‘lawsuit waiting to happen’. It’s why I wouldn’t be allowed to share my identity with anyone but you and my parents. Most Unspeakables are generally known throughout the Ministry.”

“Well,” said Scorpius as diplomatically as possible. “That is incredibly offensive.”

“I know.” Albus spread out his arms. “We’re rich already, Scorpius! I can be an influencer like Ezra.”

“I really don’t think that’s a real job,” Scorpius said. “Plus, Ezra is the most on-the-grid person I’ve ever met. You hate being on the grid. If you were an Unspeakable and I were a ghostwriter, we would basically not be people anymore in the eyes of society. Consider that.”

Albus gasped then looked rather delighted as he considered this point. “We would barely exist!”

“Erased from society completely,” Scorpius agreed.

“Oh, wow, that’s the dream,” Albus mused. “Wiped from history altogether.”

“Yeah, except without destroying the timeline to do so!”


End file.
